Lost Princess

CHAPTER ONE

His ears deceived him, playing tricks that he couldn't believe. The message that was relayed to his brain was simply unfathomable. Sheikh Bryson James KhJamesia, the current ruler of KhJamesia, leaned in closer to his senior aide, Wayne Bailey, his voice low and even, but with an underlying threat.

"Repeat yourself," he said softly.

Wayne shrank back, fully aware of the danger lurking beneath Bryson's calm exterior. He knew that his King's quiet tone was far more terrifying than any bark could ever be. Not that Bryson James KhJamesia, a master strategist and an incredibly intelligent leader, would ever stoop to such base actions.

"We've received information that your betrothed has vanished, Your Highness," Wayne explained, his voice trembling slightly.

"She's not in her suite, and her maidservant believes she's been taken."

Bryson's disbelief was evident as he pressed for more details. "Believes? So there's no concrete evidence?"

"I haven't spoken to the servant myself, Your Highness, but-"

"For all we know, my betrothed could be hiding somewhere in the palace, overcome by the nerves that commonly afflict women on their wedding day, correct?"

Wayne exchanged glances with the other aides, understanding the unspoken "but" that hung in the air. "It is possible, Your Highness."

Bryson heard the doubt in their voices and it only fueled his frustration. "Where is this maidservant? I want to speak to her directly."

The senior aide hesitated, knowing that the girl was in a state of distress. "Your Highness, she's quite hysterical. I don't believe it will be of any use-"

"Useful?" Bryson's disbelief grew, threatening to consume him. He gestured to his attire, the burgundy-and-gold military uniform that adorned him. "Do you see what I'm wearing, Wayne?"

Wayne's Adam's apple bobbed as he took in Bryson's regal appearance. His King was the epitome of elegance and power, standing tall and commanding in his ceremonial outfit. "Yes, Your Highness," he replied respectfully.

Bryson discarded the white gloves he had been about to put on and approached the men, his voice dripping with authority. He needed to make himself perfectly clear.

"Have you seen the dignitaries and heads of state arriving for the ceremony? The citizens who have camped outside the capital for days? The journalists and cameras waiting to broadcast this event?" Bryson asked.

"Yes, Your Highness," Wayne answered.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Bryson continued, determined to make them understand the gravity of the situation. "Tell me again why it wouldn't be useful to find my betrothed as soon as possible."

Wayne clasped his hands in a gesture of supplication, but it did little to appease Bryson's rising temper. "I apologize, Your Highness. I came to inform you that there might be a delay. Perhaps we can postpone the ceremony-"

"No. There will be no postponement. You will find my betrothed immediately, and this wedding will proceed as scheduled."

"Your Highness, we have searched everywhere. She is not here."

A red haze clouded Bryson's vision, but he maintained his composure. He was the King, after all. He had been trained from birth to control his emotions, to exude poise and decorum. His father had been the one to give in to displays of emotion, not him.

Bryson straightened his spine, fixing his gaze on Wayne. "Take me to this maidservant. I want to hear what she has to say for myself."

Wayne immediately bowed low. "Of course, Your Highness."

The palace guards stationed by the door sprang into action, opening the double doors as Bryson prepared himself for what he would find.From the moment Bryson set foot in the hallway, an unsettling feeling washed over him. The once lively atmosphere of anticipation surrounding the preparations for the royal wedding had dissipated, leaving behind an air of unease.

The palace staff scurried about with anxious expressions, avoiding eye contact with Bryson, a sign that something was amiss. This palpable tension prickled his senses, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Even Wayne, his companion, seemed to be purposefully distancing himself from Bryson, quickening his pace as they walked.

If it weren't for the gravity of the situation, Bryson might have found amusement in Wayne's desperate attempts to create distance between them. But deep in his bones, he felt that his upcoming nuptials were in jeopardy.

Whispers grew louder as he entered the heart of the palace. Like most royal residences, the women's quarters were separate from the men's, divided by several wings. Bryson's own private rooms were located to the west of the sprawling palace, perched atop Mount Jerra.

With determined strides, he crossed over to the east wing, disregarding the bows and curtsies from palace staff and extended family members. His gaze remained fixed, his expression solemn, as he made his way towards the guest suite where Avery, his fiancée, had been residing since her arrival three weeks prior.

Avery was the daughter of his father's oldest friend, and while Bryson had known of her existence since childhood, he hadn't paid much attention to her. Their impending marriage had been arranged by others, requiring only a few obligatory meetings. Still, he had taken his duty seriously, making sure she felt at ease and not coerced into this union. Her assurances had put his mind at ease, assuring him that she would be his wife when the time came.

The medical report confirming her ability to bear children had sealed the deal.

Beyond that, he hadn't given much thought to her, though he had noticed her recent distractions during their weekly dinners.

However, Avery was close with his sister, Gisela, and Bryson trusted that she would have informed him if there were any problems with the upcoming wedding.

But what if he had dropped the ball somewhere?

A crease formed between his brows as he contemplated this possibility.

Leading his kingdom had always been his top priority. It had to be, considering the chaos left in its wake by his father's sudden abdication.

Anger simmered within him as he quickened his pace towards the suite of luxury rooms reserved for the Queen and other female members of the royal family. Today was not the day to dwell on his father's abandonment or the countless sleepless nights and tireless efforts he had put into saving the kingdom from ruin.

Today demanded his complete attention. His people longed for a royal wedding, and it was his duty to deliver.

The footmen stationed outside the Sapphire Suite immediately swung open the doors upon spotting him.

Bryson entered, only to come to an abrupt halt at the sight of distressed women in the living room. Two were in hysterics, while an older female servant consoled another.

"Which one is she?" he demanded tersely. All eyes turned to him, followed by gasps of shock and hurried attempts at composure. The usual bows, curtsies, and averted gazes commenced.

Wayne silenced them, then directed a sharp question at the junior aide behind him. The young man shook his head, casting a furtive glance at Bryson. Wayne approached the older attendant and interrogated her. Clearly nervous, she pointed towards the inner chamber.

Bryson strode towards the smaller double doors, his anger bubbling beneath the surface. This time, he took it upon himself to swing the doors open, memories of the past igniting a fire within him as he stepped into the vast, opulent chamber that had once belonged to his mother.

He paid no mind to the priceless keepsakes, furniture, or decorations. He couldn't differentiate between the items his mother cherished and those bestowed upon her by secret admirers or his father. He didn't know her favorite book or the preferred flower arrangement for her private sitting room because she had never allowed him inside.

Their interactions had been limited to public appearances where her feigned adoration could be captured and praised by the world, providing her with moments of smugness as she perused gossip magazines. Beyond that, she had never shown him or his siblings any kindness.

But today, he wasn't here to dwell on his mother's treatment of him.

His attention shifted to the figure huddled near the headboard of the grand bed. She was so small that he almost missed her.

Dressed in drab, ill-fitting clothes that clashed with the opulence of the gold and cream bed linens, she blended in like another piece of the rich tapestry that adorned the four-poster bed.

As Bryson approached, he noticed her trembling shoulders. With each step, the soft sniffles of her quiet sobs reached his ears.Bryson suppressed a curse, refusing to let it escape his lips.

He had no patience for weak women, and even less for those who cried.

Behind him, Wayne clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

The figure jumped up, tripping over her long, shapeless skirt, and clumsily fell to the floor at Bryson’s feet.

Impatient breath spilled through clenched teeth as he waited for her to rise. But instead of getting up, she became fixated on his shoes.

Bryson took a step forward, hoping to break her trance. When that failed, he cleared his throat.

"If you have a shoe fetish, I suggest you indulge in it at a more appropriate time. Perhaps when the reputation of my kingdom is not at stake," Bryson said with a drawl.

She gasped, finally raising her head.

Tear-soaked dark eyes slowly traveled up his body. By the time they reached his face, her expression shifted from shock to pure horror.

With tears staining her blotched and swollen face, and her mouth frozen in an unflattering O, she was the most unsightly girl Bryson had ever laid eyes on.

"What is your name?" he asked, hoping she could muster enough words to respond.

She remained silent, her horror only intensifying.

"Do you not hear your King speaking to you, girl?" Wayne demanded sharply.

Her mouth closed, and she swallowed audibly, but still didn't utter a word.

Bryson's fists clenched. Nearly a year of meticulous planning was hanging in the balance because of one tear-streaked, speechless girl.

Just as he was about to make a move, her gaze darted to his fists and she flinched.

Her naked fear struck a chord within him. He exhaled and slowly relaxed his fingers. He wouldn't be able to have a coherent conversation with her unless he found a way to ease some of her fear.

Sensing Wayne's movement, Bryson raised his hand. "Leave us," he instructed.

Wayne made a surprised sound. "Are you sure, Your Highness?"

Bryson's lips tightened. "Leave. Now."

The room emptied immediately. Bryson kept his gaze fixed on the girl crouched before him and cautiously extended his hand towards her. Her eyes darted between his face and his hand, as if afraid he would do something unpredictable. Like bite or strike.

He furrowed his brow.

She reminded him of the skittish colts in his stable. The ones that required time and patience to respond to his commands.

But today, he had neither time nor patience. His marriage ceremony was scheduled to begin in less than two hours.

Bryson leaned down and extended his hand further. "Stand up," he instructed firmly.

She placed her hand in his, scrambled to her feet, and immediately gasped and released his hand as if she had been burned.

Ignoring her reaction, his gaze roamed over her, confirming that the drabness extended from her disheveled tufts of dark hair to the soles of her feet.

However, she wasn't the young girl he initially assumed her to be.

She was well past adolescence, evident from the swell of her chest and the hint of curves beneath her clothes. She barely reached his chin in her flat, uninspiring shoes. Her covered arms were slender, and her jaw held a delicate strength.

His eyes involuntarily glanced at her chest again, but it was solely due to her agitated breathing. Nothing more. Stepping back, he folded his hands behind his back and assumed a relaxed posture that always worked with his horses.

"What is your name?" he asked again, lowering his voice.

Her gaze dropped to the ground as she mumbled her response.

"Speak up," Bryson commanded.

She lifted her chin slightly, but her gaze remained fixated on the tips of his shoes.

"Aria Zawani, Your Highness," she repeated softly.

Her voice was gentle, smoky, and lyrical, albeit tinged with timidity. But at least he had a name.

"What is your role here?"

"I... I was a chambermaid until last week when I was assigned to Miss Avery's personal staff."

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you," Bryson drawled. It took an agonizingly long time for her head to rise again. But eventually, her gaze met his before quickly flitting down to rest on his nose. Bryson prayed for strength and continued, "Where is your mistress?"

Her lower lip trembled, her wide eyes filled with distress, and her breathing grew more agitated. Bryson forced himself not to stare at the soft curves of her mouth or the smoothness of her throat as she trembled before him.

"She... she's gone, Your Highness."

Bryson's fist threatened to clench once more. Resisting the urge was challenging. "Gone where?" he managed through clenched teeth.

"I don't know, Your Highness."

"Very well. Let's try a different approach. Did she leave alone?"

She twisted her fingers anxiously before clearing her throat. "No, Your Highness. She... she left with a man."

A detached, icy sensation crept up Bryson's spine. "A man? What man?" he asked softly.

"She didn't tell me his name, Your Highness."

"But you're certain she was taken against her will by an unknown man?" he pressed.

The woman bit her lip, drawing his attention to its plump, reddened curve as she nodded. "Yes... well..." Her distress grew.

"Tell me what you know," he insisted.

"I might be mistaken, Your Highness, but she didn't seem... unwilling."

The possibility that he had been abandoned filled him with cold anger. Yet, strangely, Bryson wasn't only angry for himself.Instead, it was the impending disappointment for his people, the chaos for his kingdom, that made Bryson's fists clench behind his back.

"Did she say anything? Did he say anything to make you think this?" he asked urgently.

"It...it happened very quickly, Your Highness. But..." The chambermaid's hand disappeared into the folds of her skirt and emerged with a folded piece of paper. "He...he instructed me to give this to Princess GJamesila to hand to you." She held out the paper, her fingers trembling.

Bryson took it from her, his insides frozen as he unfolded the sheet, recognizing it as a torn piece of his own royal stationery.

He read the message once. Then again.

With a thick curse, he crumpled the heavy, embossed paper between his fingers, his fist clenched tight until it shook with the force of his emotions. The red haze of fury returned, deeper, steeping his lethargic mood as he crossed to the window and pressed his fist against the wide pane.

Outside, the palace grounds sprawled in sun-dappled splendor. Beyond the windows, the muted buzzing of an expectant crowd rolled over the horizon. Excited citizens and eager tourists who had flown in specifically for this occasion were anticipating a fairytale royal wedding between their King and his chosen Queen. The whole kingdom had been gripped by wedding fever for months.

Only to have his heathen bastard of a half-brother claim in writing that he had seduced and stolen his betrothed!

In another life, perhaps, that tiny sliver of emotion piercing through his fury could have been called relief from yet another responsibility. But Bryson gave it no room whatsoever, because he now faced a monumental problem. Aside from the humiliation of announcing that he was no longer in possession of his fiancée, this arrangement had held great economic advantages for Khamesia.

He needed to find Avery. Confirm for himself that his half-brother's claim was the truth.

But how could he, when he had no idea where he had gone? The dossier he had compiled on Adam when he had first made his unforgettable appearance at his mother's funeral had revealed he had no fixed abode, or, if he did, he had kept it very well hidden.

Even if Bryson knew his whereabouts, he had no time to go chasing after him. He acknowledged with a bitter laugh how well-timed Adam's revenge had been. His half-brother knew that doing this now would cause the most humiliation, the most uproar.

Bryson wasn't about to hand him that victory. Not in this lifetime.

He whirled to face the young chambermaid. "When did they leave?"

Her throat worked again. But this time she didn't stay silent for long. "I brought her tea and left her alone for just ten minutes." Her voice was wracked with nerves and anguish. She began to wring her hands again. "I had gone to get the royal jewelry when I heard the commotion."

"So you saw them leave together?"

Her head moved in a shaky nod. "Yes."

"And you're sure he didn't harm her?" Bryson demanded.

"She...she didn't appear in distress, Your Highness. She seemed...willing."

The tightness in his chest eased a tiny fraction. "How did they leave?"

She pointed to the very window where he stood.

Bryson's jaw clenched tight. They were on the second floor, with nothing outside the windows but climbing vines. Granted, they were over a century old and sturdy enough to hold a horse, but had his barbarian brother really whisked his betrothed out of a second-floor window?

"Did anyone else see them?"

"Only Her Highness, the Princess, but they were almost on the ground when she came in."

Bryson frowned. Why hadn't GJamesila informed him?

Had she tried to stop them and been unsuccessful? Most likely GJamesila was keeping well out of Bryson's way because she knew how he would take the news.

"How soon after did you raise the alarm?"

Guilt flickered across her face, and her lower lip trembled once more.

"Seconds? Minutes?" he snapped.

She paused. "I...I'm sorry... I thought... I thought it was a prank."

"It wasn't. And your failure to raise the alarm in time may have aided his getaway." Bryson was sure of it.

She shrank further into the wall. He whirled away, tension threatening to break his spine.

The scandal just waiting to be triggered by such a revelation struck him stone cold. But under no circumstances was he going to let that happen.

He shoved the piece of paper into his pocket and closed his mind to the burning insult against his kingdom and his crown. He would deal with his half-brother later. For now, he needed an interim solution to this situation. One that did not involve canceling his wedding.

A quick glance around the room showed the suspended state of preparation.

The gown that should've been adorning his bride-to-be was draped over a mannequin, the heeled slippers peeking out beneath its hem.

Detachedly, he inspected the rest of the room as he mentally ran through the list of other bride candidates that had been presented to him when the subject of his nuptials first came up a year ago. Like most royal arranged marriages, though one choice had been favored above the others, there were always contingencies in case of sudden unsuitability.

Three of those candidates were downstairs, ruled out as potential brides to the King and reduced to honored guests at his wedding. Could one of them be elevated to the position that would turn out to be a dream come true for them?

Bryson's lips twisted.

There was no way to execute that plan without announcing to the whole world that he had been jilted. That would only result in frenzied tabloid gossip that the media would feed off for years.

Not that any solution he came up with wouldn't cause ripples.But concealing it until he was prepared would keep the beast at bay.

This meant maintaining a small and trustworthy inner circle while he sought a temporary solution. 

To prevent the impending scandal from spiraling out of control, he needed a bride. He had to ensure that he was married within the next two hours, before news of his jilting spread.

Of course, he would have to provide an explanation for his choice of bride, but that could wait until tomorrow.

As he turned away from the wedding gown, he found himself face to face with the chambermaid. He had almost forgotten about her presence. She stood there, barely breathing, trying her best to be inconspicuous. Bryson was surprised she hadn't fled while his back was turned.

Her wide-eyed gaze remained fixed on him, watchful and cautious as she followed his every move.

Slowing his pace, he came to a stop on his next pass, a ridiculously audacious idea taking hold in his mind. "How long have you been in my palace?" he asked.

"All...um... Most of my life, Your Highness," she stammered.

He nodded inwardly, satisfied. She would be familiar with his customs and understand the importance of discretion.

Good heavens, was he seriously considering this preposterous notion? "And how old are you?" Bryson growled.

She swallowed, delicately quivering nostrils as she inhaled. "Twenty-five, Your Highness."

He stared at her for a full minute, then briskly nodded. There was no hesitation or deceit in the decision his mind had settled on.

He needed a solution, and he had found one. His gaze fell to her fidgeting fingers, devoid of any rings. "Do you have a husband?" he inquired.

A deep blush colored her cheeks, her gaze averting from his as she shook her head. "No, Your Highness, I am unmarried."

Just to be certain, he probed further. "Are you committed to someone else?"

Her mouth tightened for a fleeting moment, but she shook her head again, mumbling, "No."

He wanted to demand that she repeat her answer, to look him in the eye as she did so. But time was slipping away from him.

Bryson's chest filled with determined purpose as his gaze shifted from the unsuitable woman before him to the wedding dress, and back again. She was roughly the same size as Avery, perhaps a bit curvier and wider in the hips than his...former fiancée. Their heights were similar too, and from what he could discern beneath the dullness and blotches, their coloring matched.

Of course, Avery had possessed more grace than this maid. Years of elite education and finishing schools in Switzerland had prepared her for her future role as Queen. The woman standing in front of him lacked that polish.

But he didn't need a diamond; he simply needed a polished stone to pass off as the real thing until he could quietly and discreetly resolve this situation on his terms.

"Come here," he commanded, his voice even, as he walked over to stand next to the wedding dress. Now that he had made up his mind, he couldn't afford any more tears or, heaven forbid, tantrums that would further delay him.

She gave him that deer-in-headlights look once again, her pulse quickening at her throat.

Bryson suppressed his exasperation. "You're not deaf. I know you can hear me. Come here," he stated firmly.

She stumbled into motion, stopping two feet away from him.

He studied her, noticing that her eyes were actually a deep amethyst, not the brown he had initially thought, and that her eyelashes were longer than he had first observed. Her mouth, too, formed a perfect little bow that, if it ever found its way into a smile, might alleviate some of her dreariness.

His gaze dropped, taking in the lines of her neck, and once again, he felt a small jolt of surprise at how gracefully it curved to her shoulders, how flawless and delicate her collarbones and skin were.

Not a diamond, but perhaps a better quality stone than he had initially surmised.

A quality stone, albeit one that was still rough around the edges, he thought, noticing that she was still twisting her fingers nervously. "Be still, little one," he commanded.

She made a choked sound under her breath, but her body stilled and her fingers ceased their anxious movements. He resisted the urge to tell her to straighten her spine and meet his gaze when he spoke to her.

Such training was unnecessary for what he had in mind. All he needed was for her not to crumble into a useless heap before he achieved his goal. And he had a way to ensure that would happen.

With his decision made, he turned away from her. As if sensing his thoughts, a brief knock sounded on the door before Wayne and the rest of his aides burst into the room.

"Your Highness? Do you have any news you wish for me to relay to the royal guard? A starting point for the search of your intended bride, perhaps?"

"We're past that, Wayne," Bryson said coldly, noting absently that Avery's departure didn't sting as much as it should. If anything, it was his half-brother's insult that grated more harshly.

"Oh? Does that mean the ceremony is off?"

Bryson glanced at the woman standing shell-shocked in the corner of the room.

She looked even worse now, as if struck by a fresh bolt of lightning. His resolve didn't waver as he objectively assessed her.

The wedding bouquet would occupy her trembling hands, veils would conceal her face, and heels would add height and hopefully improve her posture.

Beyond that, very little else mattered.

"No, it does not. The ceremony is still proceeding," he declared, slicing his hand through the shocked murmurs that filled the room. Once silence fell, he continued, "I fully intend to be married in two hours' time. Aria Zawani is to be my bride, and everyone in this room will ensure that my wishes are carried out."

CHAPTER TWO

Chapter Two

The words that spilled from King Bryson James Khamesia's lips struck Aria like a bolt of lightning, shattering the joy that should have filled her on this day. Instead, she found herself plunged into a nightmare that seemed impossible to comprehend. The Sheikh's sudden appearance in Avery's bedroom had given her a glimmer of hope, but now she was faced with words that defied all logic.

For a moment, Aria questioned her own sanity. Could the shock of witnessing Avery vanish before her eyes have caused her mind to play tricks on her? But as she looked at the imposing figure before her, the embodiment of power and authority, it became clear that she had heard correctly.

Her heart raced, and panic bubbled up within her. She longed for Princess Jamila's comforting presence, even though the princess rarely spared her a second glance. Anything would be better than facing the fierce glare of her brother.

Aria's fingers clutched at the exquisite wedding gown that surrounded her, a garment she had once dreamed of wearing herself. But now, it was a symbol of the impossible situation she found herself in. King Bryson wanted her to take Avery's place, to become his bride.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," she whispered, her voice barely audible amidst the chaos of her thoughts.

"Time is of the essence," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "We must begin preparations immediately."

Wayne, the voice of reason, stepped forward, his disbelief evident. "Your Highness, perhaps we should discuss this—"

But King Bryson cut him off, his gaze never leaving Aria. "I will not tolerate insubordination. This wedding will happen. She is the one who will take Avery's place."

Aria's head shook involuntarily, shockwaves rippling through her. This couldn't be real. She desperately wished to go back to a time when she was insignificant, just another orphan in the state orphanage. The ill-fitting clothes she wore were meant to hide her, not to adorn her on her wedding day.

"You will not pass out," King Bryson commanded, his voice filled with an authority that brooked no argument. "Drink some water."

Aria's hands trembled as she took the glass he offered, her gaze locked with his. The words he had spoken echoed in her mind, a cruel mirage that refused to fade away. She drank, trying to steady herself, but the reality of the situation threatened to overwhelm her.

As the bridal attendants entered the room, Aria's eyes darted around, searching for an escape. But King Bryson's presence was suffocating, leaving her feeling more exposed than ever before. He effortlessly commanded the attendants, demanding that they prepare her for the royal parade in one hour.

She was just a maidservant, an orphan with no past. How could she possibly be worthy of wearing Avery's wedding gown, of becoming the king's bride? The words escaped her lips before she could stop them.

"Your Highness, I beg your pardon, but I cannot."

The thunderous expression on King Bryson's face sent shivers down her spine. His eyes bore into her, unyielding and hypnotic.

"Yes, you will."Aria's hand instinctively covered her pounding heart, desperately trying to calm its frantic beats. She had pledged her loyalty to the King and his family long ago, a condition of her residence in the palace. And though he had no knowledge of her existence or her insignificant role in his life, she had faithfully carried out every task assigned to her.

In her own small ways, she had brought him comfort. Ensuring that the food served in his private dining room was just right, making sure his favorite wines were always on hand when he returned to his royal chambers. Once, when the palace delivery was delayed, she had even used her meager savings to purchase a bottle for him.

When his personal cleaning staff fell ill, she had volunteered to work in his private quarters. The memory of the scent of his sheets and the cologne he wore still lingered in her mind.

These fleeting but intense moments had caused her cheeks to blush for weeks on end. Yes, she would do anything for Sheikh Bryson James Khamesia, just like everyone else in the room.

But not this.

Her head shook faster as her arm rose. "Your Highness, with all due respect, there are others far more suitable for this role. I'm nobody. You're making a mistake," she managed to say, relieved that her voice held firm.

Gasps echoed through the room, and his forbidding expression grew even sterner. "I have made my decision. You are my choice. Do you have any other objections?" he drawled.

Aria was stunned by his question. Did that mean he would listen if she objected? What objection could she possibly voice other than telling the King that he was utterly insane? The mere thought of such a thing made her head spin.

"By your silence, I assume you do not."

"Please, you have to reconsider," she pleaded.

"This discussion is over," he declared. "But rest assured, you will be compensated for your role."

He turned away, and a small burst of relief surged through her. But she knew better than to trust it. Her emotions had been on edge ever since she caught sight of Avery and that imposing man climbing out the window. She had frozen in disbelief, losing precious minutes before screaming and sounding the alarm. Guilt coursed through her veins.

She should have done more to stop them. Or called for help sooner, as Bryson had said.

This was her punishment for not acting quickly enough. If only she had, this madness wouldn't be happening.

Because...marriage? To him?

Heaven help her, she couldn't do it.

Taking a tentative step closer, she mustered the courage to speak again. "Your Highness, please, can we discuss it?"

"We don't have time for a discussion," he stated calmly. "This is an emergency that requires an interim solution. We can address any concerns you may have later."

He continued issuing instructions, heads nodding as everyone prepared to carry them out. Moments later, firm hands reached for her, attempting to undress her in front of him. Rebellion surged through her, and she pushed the attendants away. "No!"

The room fell silent.

"No?" Hamesimah whispered in horror. "You're saying no to your King?"

All eyes were on her, but one pair locked onto her with intensity. Bryson James Khamesia awaited her answer, and his expression told her everything she needed to know. There would be consequences if she didn't obey him. She was the one who let Avery escape. She was the one who failed to sound the alarm in time. Though she hadn't aided his fiancée, her inaction may have contributed to Avery's disappearance.

Sheikh Bryson approached her, towering over her. "I too am waiting for an answer," he breathed.

Aria swallowed, realizing she had little choice. She had helped cause this chaos, and now it was up to her to fix it.

"No," she said. "I...I mean yes," she quickly amended when his face hardened. "I will be your interim bride," she whispered, her mouth dry.

She couldn't help but glance at the window.

Bryson followed her gaze, his expression growing even colder.

"If you're thinking of running away like my previous bride-to-be, think again. Hamesimah and her companions will stay with you. They will assist you in getting ready. You will not be left alone until you are by my side at the altar in one hour. Understood?"

Her world spun faster, but Aria managed a nod.

It must have been enough because he and his aides left the room, Bryson James Khamesia striding with regal grace. Some said he carried the very essence of life itself with him wherever he went.

The truth of it hit her hard, and she exhaled sharply.

At the door, he paused, his golden eyes piercing into her. "There will be guards stationed outside your door and along every path you take today. Just to ensure you make it to the wedding ceremony without any obstacles."

Aria wanted to laugh, but she knew she would end up sobbing instead. She couldn't walk down the aisle in tears.

Her own wedding ceremony!

How was this happening?

Before she could dwell on it further, the women in the room sprang into action, guiding her to the center of the room and beginning to undress her.Moments later, Aria found herself immersed in the fragrant bath she had prepared for Avery not long ago. The water still retained its warmth, luxury gels and shampoos waiting to indulge the bride-to-be in her pre-wedding pampering.

But now, Aria was the bride-to-be. The whispers echoing around her were a constant reminder of her new role. She tried to drown out the speculative conversations and derogatory comments that often came her way. As a lowly servant without a past, she was used to this treatment, but it always managed to pierce her heart. It was why she had given up on forming friendships with her colleagues.

In this moment, as she sank into the water, she allowed herself to be consumed by numbness. Ignoring the awkward silences and intense loneliness, she pretended that none of this was happening.

The hands that washed her body and the fingers that wove through her hair went unnoticed. Somewhere deep within her despair, Aria realized that she was still trembling. Even after she was wrapped in a plush robe and seated at the bridal makeup station, the trembling persisted. She stared blankly into the distance as her makeup was applied and her hair was meticulously styled.

It was when they led her towards the wedding gown that Aria finally snapped back to reality.

"No..." Her protest was feeble, like that of a wounded animal seeking mercy.

But there was no escape.

"Yes," Hamesimah insisted. "For whatever reason fate has chosen you for this role. You will not dishonor our King by disobeying, and I will not risk my own life because of you. Now, lift your arms so we can adorn you in this exquisite garment."

Interim.

Aria was just an interim solution. A temporary stand-in for today.

Tomorrow, Bryson would search the desert or wherever Avery had been taken, and he would bring her back.

This was only temporary.

She repeated those words to herself. By this time next week, she would be back in her familiar clothes, in her rightful place, with this terrifying incident locked away as a story to tell her children and grandchildren someday.

But they probably wouldn't believe her, she thought numbly. She could barely believe it herself.

She lifted her arms and allowed them to drape the undergarments over her body. Layer by layer, the specially commissioned wedding gown was added. The skirt hugged her hips a little too tightly, but it wasn't uncomfortable. As the zipper was pulled up and the delicate buttons fastened, Aria felt herself being sealed within this temporary prison. She blinked back tears, refusing to let them ruin Hamesimah's handiwork. She needed to regain control of herself as quickly as possible. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could retreat into her shell, and life could continue.

She placed her feet into the shoes as instructed, tilted her head to accommodate the magnificent tiara adorned with diamonds and sapphires, and extended her hands for the two dozen bangles that completed the outfit. Precious gems in various shapes and sizes shimmered from her wrists, neck, and ears as she was guided towards the giant gilded mirror.

Aria managed to hold her gaze in the mirror for a fleeting moment before her eyes dropped to her feet again. The woman staring back at her was unrecognizable. And that was a good thing. It allowed her to detach herself completely from this situation, retreating to the numb place where she felt safest, away from the whispers and the stunned glances. It was in that place that she heard the soft, kind voice in her head, the one she didn't recognize but had come to accept over the years as her merciful companion. It was the voice that she clung to when she felt at her lowest.

The caretakers at the orphanage had dismissed the voice as her imaginary friend. Some had even ridiculed her. But Aria felt no shame in embracing the gentle whispers assuring her that everything would be alright.

You'll get through this.

She repeated those words to herself as Wayne, his aides, Hamesimah, and six guards dressed in ceremonial attire escorted her down a grand staircase towards the waiting Rolls-Royce Phantom in the palace courtyard. The three veils shielding her from direct view provided a welcome sense of safety.

Still, she could hear the hushed murmurs as she glided forward. Hands fluttered behind her, tending to her train and helping her into the car. Aria remained silent as Wayne took his place beside her. In the depths of her mind, she understood his presence.

Avery's father, Feroz Ghamesib, was supposed to be in this position with his daughter. Wayne's presence next to her would raise eyebrows, but it would buy them time before the truth was revealed.

Despite this, her hands trembled around the stem of the bouquet, diamond-studded cream roses. As the car began to move, Aria briefly considered opening the door and fleeing as fast as her legs would carry her. She knew every corner of the royal palace, having spent all of her free time exploring it over the years. She could find a hiding spot within minutes.

But she quickly dismissed the temptation. The recent loss of the Queen had left Khamesia in mourning, and the kingdom was still reeling from the shock of Bryson's abdication. Although the people had accepted him as their new King, there were still lingering aftershocks.

He was right when he said this wedding needed to happen. Ghamila had expressed her concerns last night about Avery's lack of enthusiasm for the wedding, leading to a conversation that Aria had overheard while tidying Avery's room.

There were greater implications at stake than just a marriage between two childhood friends.

The truth was, Khamesia couldn't afford another scandal.

"Wave," Wayne instructed tersely. "You need to wave to the people."

Aria glanced out the window, startled to see that they were already on the street outside the palace.Unfamiliar with the intricacies of royal ceremonies, she relied on her observations of televised weddings to guide her. The car ride to acknowledge her future subjects and express gratitude for their support was a customary part of the proceedings, as she had seen countless times before.

With hesitant movements, she raised her hand and waved. The joyful screams from outside the car penetrated the thick windows, reminding her that she had become a beacon of hope for the people. She, the orphan from the poorest part of the capital, the woman without a past or a name of her own.

Dizziness threatened to overwhelm her, and a garbled sound escaped her throat. 

"You must compose yourself," Wayne admonished her.

Once again, hysterical laughter bubbled up within her. How easy it was for everyone to tell her to pull herself together, to rise to the occasion. But no one understood the depths of her emotions. No one knew how she had secretly admired Bryson from afar, watching him move about the palace on TV, gazing at his pictures in magazines. No one knew the awe he inspired in her, even though she had long outgrown any romantic notions.

If this task had been for anyone other than the King of Khamesia, she might have summoned something other than terror. But he was different. Bryson James Khamesia occupied a realm of his own, far above the royal blood flowing through his veins and the crown upon his head.

Too soon, the ride came to an end.

Trumpets blared as the Rolls stopped in front of the Imperijames Ceremonijames Room, where she would soon take her vows. Aria drew a breath, hoping for clarity or strength, but found none. Despite the senior aide's disapproval, she was grateful for his presence as he guided and supported her. Without him, she feared she would crumble.

Her trembling hand rested on his arm.

Unfamiliar flower girls giggled and danced before her, scattering scented flowers along her path. She glided up the twenty-one steps, following the gold-edged, royal blue carpet that led to the center of the opulent bameslroom reserved for official ceremonies.

Outside, trumpets joined the jubilation that reverberated throughout the kingdom, as crowds watched the proceedings on giant screens across the city.

Inside, Aria moved toward the man standing tall, regal, and devastatingly handsome at the altar, her heart lodged firmly in her throat.

Wayne winced, and she realized her fingers had dug into his skin.

An apology formed on her lips but was choked back by nerves.

The murmurs among the congregation intensified as heads turned, speculation growing about why Wayne accompanied the bride.

Aria had no time to dwell on that. Her focus was solely on Sheikh Bryson as he turned to watch her approach.

His face revealed nothing. Years in the spotlight had honed his ability to control his emotions. But Aria had watched enough interviews with the Crown Prince, now King of Khamesia, to discern the subtle shifts in his expression.

At this moment, he brimmed with suppressed fury, still seething from the injustice inflicted upon him. Yet, he caged that fury, prioritizing duty and responsibility. He intended to see this through, no matter the obstacles.

Aria cursed her senses for returning at that exact moment. The vibrant colors of the Imperijames Ceremonijames Room, the hushed voices of the guests, and Bryson's piercing gaze anchored her in the present.

"Stay calm," a soft voice urged. How? she protested internally. She wanted to scream, to flee from the room, but there was nowhere to go. They were almost at the altar. Wayne lowered his arm, preparing to step away.

As soon as he did, Gjamesila stepped forward. Bryson's sister wore a pensive expression as she approached Aria. Unlike the others in the room, she understood why a maidservant stood in Avery's place.

"The bouquet," Gjamesila said gently.

Reluctantly, Aria handed it over, mourning the loss of even that small support.

Before she could dwell on it, Bryson extended his hand. They were to take that final step to the altar together.

Aria stared at his long, elegant fingers. Automatically, she lifted her right hand and placed it in his left. She couldn't decide if she should be grateful or frightened by the pressure of his grip as he guided her onto that last daunting step.

The cleric began reciting a series of ancient words. Words that demanded obedience, fidelity, faith, and companionship.

Love.

Aria's insides churned at the mention of that word. Love was foreign to her, something she had never experienced in her years. The occasional acts of kindness she received were from strangers. In her quiet moments, she had dreamed of such a feeling, but never in her wildest imagination did she think it would be spoken in these circumstances.

A glance at Bryson revealed a stoic mask, unaffected by the words except for the facade he presented to the public. When it was his turn to repeat his vows, he did so with deep, assured tones, neither rushed nor nervous.

The cleric turned to Aria. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Her fingers trembled, and soon her entire body was seized by relentless tremors.

"Repeat your vows," Bryson whispered gravely. "Repeat them now."

Aria swallowed painfully, forcing her dry throat to cooperate. She opened her mouth, and with a sense of surrealism, she said, "I, Aria Zjameswani, take you, Bryson James Khamesia, to be my husband."

Shockwaves rippled through the crowd, and outside the palace, the revelation of the bride's true identity echoed through the kingdom. Through it all, Bryson maintained his haughty, regal composure, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

"Proceed," he commanded the cloaked cleric.

To his credit, the old man did not falter. He recited a plethora of archaic, binding words.

And just half an hour later, Aria was officially wed to the King of Khamesia.

CHAPTER THREE

A swift, three-minute statement was released by the official James press secretary on behalf of Sheikh Bryson James Khamesia immediately following the ceremony. In just that short amount of time, the bizarre tale of the swapped bride managed to transform the atmosphere from one of scandalized confusion to one of roaring elation.

As Aria stood beside Bryson on the royal balcony overlooking the Imperial Ceremony Room, the entire kingdom was swept up in a romantic frenzy. Social media erupted with excitement at the notion that the King had followed his heart and married the woman he truly loved, rather than the one arranged for him. The media, searching for dissenting opinions, found only sighs of admiration and tales of star-crossed lovers.

The little Aria managed to catch only added to the surreal nature of it all.

In the few minutes between leaving the wedding ceremony and arriving on the balcony, Aria received a crash course in wedding protocol. Instead of the usual weeks of tutoring, she was only given five minutes to learn the ins and outs. She was to stand to the right of her new husband, never letting her arm rise above shoulder level when waving to the crowd. While she could show her teeth when smiling, she was not to exhibit any raucous behavior. The instructions raced through her mind, a flurry of dos and don'ts that she struggled to keep up with.

"Look straight ahead and smile," Bryson calmly instructed. "This is the moment to go to your happy place and think positive thoughts."

After everything that had happened in the past few hours, Aria was dangerously close to succumbing to hysteria. Her happy place lately had been curling up with a book by the fire in her small bedsit on the palace grounds. Oh, how she wished she could be there now. Anywhere but here, where a million eyes shamelessly gawked, and the honored guests, no longer bothering to keep their voices down, openly speculated about how she ended up in her current position.

"My happy place?" she murmured. "I don't think that's a very good idea."

He heard her, even though she kept her voice low, and shot her a brief but intense glance.

"Why not?" he inquired. "Isn't that what women do when they want to escape their troubles?" There was a bitter undertone that caught her off guard, but his face remained neutral, the same mask he had worn since they were announced as husband and wife.

"I'm not sure I understand," Aria said.

"That's not important right now. All I care about is that you project nothing but absolute bliss at finding yourself in this position. Remember, the whole world is watching."

He believed he was helping, supporting her through an impossible situation. But all Aria could focus on in that moment was the pounding of her heart and the joyous uproar of the crowd as they waved their flags and screamed congratulations across the royal park.

"Just do your best. That's all I ask," Bryson muttered. "It would please me greatly if you did it now, though. The others are joining us."

That was the only warning she had before the doors behind them opened and the rest of his extended family flooded onto the balcony to join them.

Gamilah slid into place beside her, while his brother, Malik, took his position next to Bryson. Aunts, uncles, nieces, and nephews found their designated spots, acknowledging the crowd with practiced waves and salutes.

All the while, each and every one of them cast lingering looks in Aria's direction.

For a fleeting moment, Aria was grateful that Bryson had kept her by his side. One audacious relative had tried to pry out the reason behind his last-minute change in brides, but Bryson shut him down with a stern rebuke to mind his own business.

"I will call a family gathering when I have a spare moment. But don't hold your breath. I intend to be occupied with my new bride for a while," he had said.

His uncle had slinked away, chastised, and Aria was left blushing furiously. Word quickly spread that Sheikh Bryson was off-limits when it came to questions about his bride. At least not today.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," Gamilah murmured.

"Thank you," Aria replied.

"I would love to know how this interesting turn of events came about," Gamilah continued. "I mean, one minute you were a maid and the next you're my sister-in-law. Not that I don't enjoy a captivating story, but this—"

"Watch it, Gamilah," Bryson warned under his breath, his hands strategically positioned in front of his face as he waved.

Gamilah maintained her graceful smile as she glanced at her brother. "What? So sue me if I'm dying to know what happened. One moment I was trying to find your elusive bride-to-be, and the next I seem to have gained a new sister-in-law out of nowhere. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I had stumbled into a reality TV show."

"Enough," Bryson growled. "Remember there are lip-readers out there. If there's something to discuss, we'll do it later. For now, remember where you are."

Beside him, his brother Malik snorted softly. "If you wanted us to behave, brother, you shouldn't have offered us this audacious adventure on your wedding day. If you're trying to make history, then bravo. No one will forget this day anytime soon."The only indication that Bryson's emotions weren't under complete control was the subtle twitch at his temple. Despite this, he maintained his composure, waving to the crowd and even placing his hand around Aria's waist as the military jets soared overhead.

Aria was grateful for the deafening roar of the jet engines, as it muffled the gasp that escaped her when Bryson's hand settled on her waist. Apart from helping her off the floor and sliding the wedding ring onto her finger, he hadn't touched her.

She told herself she was thankful for that, although the stone of humiliation in her stomach grew heavier when he lifted her veils and promptly stepped away without the customary newlywed kiss.

But now, with his touch searing through the layers of her wedding gown and into her skin, Aria couldn't suppress the tingling sensation that consumed her body. The smile she had plastered on her face froze as every fiber of her being focused on the electrifying feeling evoked by his touch. It was as if his hand carried a unique charge that surged through her veins, igniting little explosions of fireworks. Seconds turned into minutes, and time seemed to lose all meaning as Bryson gazed into her eyes.

His tawny-gold eyes bore into her soul, as though he wanted to possess every thought within her. In the distance, the military jets performed acrobatic loops before beginning their return journey. Aria knew it was only a matter of moments before confetti would rain down upon them, the moment the crowd had been eagerly anticipating. It was the moment when the King would kiss his new Queen.

Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine it would be her. And never did she imagine that a man like Bryson would be staring down at her with such intensity.

She repeated to herself that it was all an act. But her racing heart and the whirlwind of emotions within her dared to suggest otherwise. His hand guided her to face him, an insistent move that made it clear there was no escape. Bryson, the man she had foolishly fantasized about in her teenage years, was about to kiss her.

A colossal burst of blue and gold exploded above their heads, but Aria paid little attention. Every cell in her body was focused on the gradual descent of his head towards hers, the firm grip on her waist, and the strong tug as he pulled her closer.

"Relax," he breathed, his voice a warning mingled with rough reassurance.

But Aria couldn't find reassurance. How many women dreamed that their first kiss would be witnessed by millions, if not billions of people around the world? What if she got it wrong? What if she made a complete fool of herself, even more than she already had throughout this entire ordeal? And what if--

"Aria," Bryson murmured again, his warning now deeper.

"I'm trying," she whispered fiercely.

"Try harder. You look as if you're heading for the gallows instead of your first kiss with your new husband. Is kissing me such a daunting prospect?" he drawled.

"Maybe it is. Have you ever considered that it might be the last thing I want?"

Surprise flickered in his eyes at the spark of defiance in her voice.

His tawny-gold eyes gleamed just before the first shower of confetti drifted past them. Another piece landed on her cheek.

As she moved to brush it away, he murmured, "Stop."

Bryson took hold of her free hand, the one not clutching the bouquet, and gently placed it on his chest. Then, with a smooth motion, he brushed the tiny golden tinsel from her cheek. Expecting his hand to return to her waist, Aria gasped softly as his fingers caressed her jaw and drifted to her neck.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She had witnessed numerous royal first kisses, and years ago, she had daydreamed about what it would feel like to be the recipient of one, just like any other girl her age.

Those embraces had been chaste, the exchanged gazes far less intense than this.

Bryson was breaking protocol.

But, of course, she couldn't question his actions without risking her lips being read. So she stood before him, attempting not to tremble out of her skin as his sure fingers trailed down her neck, resting lightly on her collarbone. His thumb gently tilted her chin upward, intensifying the shivers coursing through her.

"You tremble so, little one," Bryson murmured.

She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. In that moment, Bryson closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers.

The roar of the crowd and the blaring trumpets were for this staged performance, Aria knew. But each sound heightened the thrill and electricity that surged through her veins the moment Bryson kissed her. She wasn't sure why she closed her eyes, but it felt right. Perhaps it was because she was intoxicated by the effect of his mouth on hers.

It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Heat and magic and an overwhelming desire coursed through her body, emanating from his lips and spreading to her very core. She stifled a small delighted squeak as he deepened the kiss, swallowing it with ease. His hand remained at her throat, while the one at her waist exerted a firmer grip, branding her skin. Another moan escaped her. The crowd's cheers grew louder. And through it all, Bryson continued to kiss her, his tongue gliding across her bottom lip, weakening her knees until she leaned against him.

He caught her effortlessly, holding her close as he continued to gently ravage her mouth."Enough, you two," GJamesila said with a chuckle. "There are children watching. Let's not turn this into an X-rated show."

Bryson lifted his head with a muted grunt, his face betraying a hint of surprise and irritated bewilderment, quickly masked a moment later.

If it had been anyone else, she might've believed that he was feeling the same sensations coursing through her body. But his eyes held a piercing speculation that added a touch of apprehension to her already jangled emotions.

What was he thinking?

As if he caught the unspoken question, his hand dropped from her throat, and he turned to face the crowd. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as if he was acknowledging that they had just shared a special moment with every citizen in his kingdom, and millions more around the world. Then, he looked down at her, his eyes silently urging her to acknowledge the crowd as well.

Blushing fiercely, Aria turned her attention back to the crowd. In unison, they waved, smiled, and continued to wave. All the while, her senses spun.

Her first kiss.

Was this how everyone felt? It was as if the whole world had shifted and taken a new course that could never be the same again. How could anything else compare to this?

She wasn't one for romance. Years of hard work and the reality that only a lucky few found their happily-ever-after had beaten out any childish, fairy-tale feelings she once had. She was old enough to know that those foolish daydreams needed to be set aside as soon as she closed the book.

So what she was experiencing now was nothing short of a fleeting daydream that needed to be forgotten.

This was temporary. She was just a stand-in.

Tomorrow, she would be back in her beige uniform, fluffing pillows and refilling shampoo bottles in the east wing.

The thought froze the smile on her face, even as she continued to wave to the crowd.

After what felt like an excruciating half-hour, Bryson steered her away from the balcony. They entered a small anteroom that now served as a path leading to the banqueting hall where the formal wedding reception was being held.

"You did well," Bryson stated, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow.

Despite the tersely murmured statement, a warm bubble of pride pierced through the lingering shock.

"Thank you," she murmured, relieved that she hadn't completely disappointed him.

"Of course, you could do with smiling a little bit more," he added.

The bubble burst. "I can't smile on command," she replied.

"You are the Queen now. You have to learn how."

"But I'm not, though, am I?"

"That ring on your finger, my dear, is proof enough."

"You know what I mean, Your Highness."

"Do I?" Bryson murmured, nodding to a guest who bowed as they passed.

"Of course you do," Aria muttered fiercely. Why was he pretending not to understand? "I'm not your Queen. This was temporary. You said so yourself."

His body tensed, and a muscle rippled in his jaw. "We'll talk about this later," he said.

Apprehension turned into a full-blown storm. "What is there to talk about, Your Highness?"

"You can start by calling me Bryson. I'm your husband now."

Her footsteps faltered. For as long as she could remember, he had always been Sheikh Bryson or Crown Prince Bryson. Not even in her dreams had she addressed him by his given name alone. It felt... monumental. Like taking a leap into thin air. Aria started to shake her head.

She needed to regain control, to bring this back to reality.

"You also need to stop shaking your head at every little disagreement. As my new bride, you're supposed to be glowing and blushing with happiness, not wearing an expression as if you've been led into the devil's playground."

"You know why I'm acting this way. I don't understand why you're pretending not to know what I'm talking about. You said this was temporary."

"Did I?"

Her mouth fell open in stunned silence.

"Remember where you are," he warned. "Do you really think this is the right time for this discussion?"

She didn't. And she couldn't demand an explanation from the King, not with guests nearby, and not as they entered the banqueting hall where attendants lined the walls, ready to serve the first course as soon as they sat down.

So she walked beside him as Bryson led her to the head of the table.

His gloved hand gripped hers tightly, as if he was determined to keep her from escaping.

As if she would. As if she could. She wouldn't get very far on her own two feet. As he had warned, guards were posted everywhere in the palace. Did his warning still apply even now that they had exchanged vows? Most likely. But she couldn't dwell on that. All she wanted was for everything to be over so she could retreat to her own corner of the world and leave this behind. But he looked at her with that same intensity as the guests crowded in.

The way he had looked at her on the balcony before their kiss. It was still an act, Aria knew. But that tiny fluttering beneath her skin grew into wild butterflies demanding freedom.

When the room was half-filled, he pulled out her chair and waited until she sat down.He stood tall, his eyes fixed on the crowd who dutifully stood beside their seats as tradition dictated.

Bryson effortlessly commanded their attention. "Many of you must be wondering about today's turn of events. Well, you will have to keep wondering," he stated, eliciting a smattering of laughter from the crowd. Yet, their eyes shifted to where she sat, desperate for any hint of juicy gossip. She struggled to maintain a serene expression as Bryson continued, "All you need to know is that I've made my choice, and I am extremely happy with it."

Her heart raced as he turned his gaze back to her, his eyes gleaming momentarily before he composed himself. "Now, I ask you to acknowledge and accept Aria James Khamesia as my bride and your Queen."

Thunderous applause erupted throughout the banquet hall. They all took their seats, and the formal reception commenced.

Aria managed to pick at a few bites of the twelve-course dinner. Bryson didn't question her lack of appetite, only stealing a few glances in her direction. Perhaps he attributed it to wedding nerves, even though the ceremony was now over.

As if there was an invisible force field around her, no one approached her to offer their congratulations.

When Gisela broke through the barrier, Bryson shot her a warning look.

Gisela rolled her eyes but refrained from making any more comments. Instead, she leaned down and planted a kiss on Aria's cheek. "You and I will need to have a spa day very soon," she whispered in Aria's ear before straightening up and walking away.

"What did she say?" Bryson inquired.

"I think she wants to have a spa day with me," Aria replied, still dazed by the day's events.

"Hmm, I believe that's code for something entirely different."

Surprise filled her eyes. "What?"

"Curiosity is my sister's middle name. Be careful around her. She has a knack for extracting information that would impress my own intelligence department."

Aria reached for her crystal water glass, her trembling fingers betraying her nerves. "Well, you don't have to worry about that, do you? By the time we have a chance for such a day, I won't be your wife anymore."

His features tightened at her response. Did he not want to hear the truth? She opened her mouth to voice her thoughts, but he beat her to it.

"This is our wedding day. Let's try to enjoy at least some of it and not sour everything, shall we?" he said, his voice filled with a quiet intensity.

She furrowed her brow, then quickly smoothed out her expression, aware that all eyes were still on them. "It's not really our wedding day, is it?" she pressed, determined to make him acknowledge the fleeting nature of their union.

It was that or... The alternative was unthinkable. No, not truly unthinkable, but impossible for someone like her. A nobody who had left such foolish dreams behind in the dreary pillows of her lonely orphanage bed.

"Think of it as an elaborate party, if you must," he replied through gritted teeth. "Whatever it is, I want to enjoy at least some of it for appearances' sake. Is that alright with you?"

Was he really asking her that after essentially dragging her into this mess? But the anger she wanted to summon faded away. She knew the true meaning behind his actions.

He did it for his people. And so did she. She owed it to the royal family and every citizen of Khamesia not to hold onto that anger. She didn't need to be in his position to understand the courage it took to turn the chaos that had been thrown at him just hours ago, a situation that would have left other men trembling, into a triumph.

Once again, he proved why he was such an effective and awe-inspiring monarch.

A monarch who demanded a sacrifice she couldn't fault him for. In this moment, Aria couldn't find it in her heart to begrudge the people of Khamesia, who had mourned the loss of their Queen and endured the uncertainty following the King's abdication.

"Of course, if that's what you wish," she murmured softly.

His eyes gleamed suspiciously, as if he could read her thoughts better than she could. It made her nervous. Aria tried to look away, but found herself captivated by the golden flecks in his tawny eyes.

"That is what I wish," he repeated in a deep, low voice. "Now, you will smile, nod, and pretend that this is the happiest day of your life."

For some inexplicable reason, obeying that command wasn't difficult.

When the corners of his mouth lifted, Aria found herself mirroring his smile. His gaze dropped to her lips, lingering for a brief moment before returning to meet her eyes.

"Much better," he drawled. "I will push my luck and request that you eat more than just a few bites. If the food doesn't suit your taste, simply let me know, and I will have something else brought to you."

Her eyes widened. What would her peers, the servants, think if she made such a request? She cringed at the thought. "No, that won't be necessary."

"I do it not out of necessity, but because you are my Queen, and your wishes hold sway."

What she truly wished right now was for him to stop referring to her as the Queen or his Queen. It would be safer that way. The last thing she wanted was to start believing, even for a moment, that this temporary role was real. She needed to maintain her distance to ensure she emerged from this nightmare with her sanity intact. "This is fine, I'm sure," she insisted firmly.Bryson nodded, turning to his brother seated beside him. Aria was taken aback by a sudden wave of emptiness that washed over her. It took her a few precious moments to regain her composure before she lifted her gaze to the guest closest to her. However, the seat was now empty, GJamesila having vacated it just moments ago.

She was about to turn away when her attention was snagged by Bryson’s uncle, the same one who had attempted to pry information from Bryson earlier. Aria mustered a smile, and he returned it with a speculative gaze, his eyes darting between Bryson and her.

"You must come to dinner when you return from your honeymoon," he said.

Honeymoon?

Aria struggled to suppress her shock.

Of course, the King and Queen were expected to go on their honeymoon. But she had no idea where Bryson intended to take Avery. Was she supposed to know the destination for her own honeymoon?

"I...I..." she stuttered. Moments later, Bryson's warm hand covered hers, gently but insistently applying pressure as a subtle warning.

"We'll be happy to accept your invitation, Uncle, once we return. Assuming, of course, that our schedules align," Bryson smoothly interjected, proving that even in conversation with his brother, he had been fully attuned to what was happening with Aria.

Was he so afraid she would mess up the charade? An undercurrent of irritation simmered beneath her skin. When she attempted to withdraw her hand from his, he held on firmly, turning his imperious head to give her what others would assume was an adoring look from a groom to his bride. But Aria saw the clear warning in his eyes. Behave.

She lowered her head, pretending to fork another bite of her sea bass. But she never brought it to her lips, fearing she would choke if she tried to swallow.

"Where's the honeymoon destination?" the woman seated next to Bryson's uncle asked.

"We will spend a few days in the EmerJamesd PJamesace, and then I will take my bride on a multi-nationJames tour, ending in the most romantic capitJames of the world, of course," Bryson replied.

"Oh, you mean Paris, don't you? I love Paris," his aunt exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "I haven't been there in months."

"And there's a reason for that," his uncle dryly remarked. "My bank account screams in agony whenever you're in the French capitJames."

Laughter filled the room. Amidst it all, Aria noticed Bryson watching her with that same pseudo-adoring, warning look. When his uncle turned away to address another guest, she attempted to withdraw her hand once again.

Though her irritation had faded, a new sensation had taken root at his touch. He no longer wore his gloves, making the sensation even more searing. Relief washed over her as he didn't hold her back. She dropped her hand into her lap, curling her fingers into her pJamesm as her blood raced through her veins.

Realizing he was still staring at her, she forced that smile back onto her face and returned his gaze. "You don't need to watch me like a hawk. I won't announce to the whole world what's happening here."

"I'm glad to hear it. But since we didn't discuss a honeymoon, I thought it best to step in. Surely you don't object to that?" he murmured testily.

"But what will they say when they find out it's not true?" she said tightly.

The taut little smile he gave her chastised her for being foolish. "That won't happen, little one, because it is true. We are going on a honeymoon."

* * *

Zafar had never encountered someone who blushed as frequently as his new bride. Or trembled as much. He was amazed she hadn't collapsed into a bundle of nerves by now. His earlier assessment that she was as skittish as one of his mares couldn't have been more accurate. Even now, as they took their first dance, he sensed she was moments away from breaking free from his grasp and fleeing across the bJameslroom.

But just as before, right when he thought she would succumb to her nerves, she straightened her slender spine, raised her delicate chin, and stared at him defiantly.

Almost.

Because this was no laughing matter. He had taken a complete stranger as his Queen. True, Avery had been little more than an acquaintance despite the arranged marriage, but this was...unprecedented.

Just like that kiss on the bJamescony...

He clenched his gut as the memory sent another strange jolt through his veins. It had only been a kiss, nothing more. So why did the sensation linger, tempting him to want to experience it again? He wouldn't, of course.

This entire near-disaster had him on edge. The adrenaline rush of salvaging a situation that could have blown up in his face was what had blown that kiss out of proportion.

But it was time to regain control of everything.

Despite the press release holding off the onslaught of questions he was sure to face, his people would need definitive answers by morning.

He had barely managed to prevent Avery's father from causing a scene even before the event began. The man was understandably searching for answers about his daughter's whereabouts and bewildered by the news that Avery had left the man she was supposed to marry. Only by asserting his full authority had Bryson stopped his father's best friend from creating a spectacle. Feroz had finally realized that Bryson was the one who had been wronged and agreed to return home to await further news.

Bryson resisted the urge to grit his teeth at the thought of his half-brother's actions.He had assigned his top investigators to the case, determined to confirm that Avery hadn't been forcibly taken. Yet deep down, he knew she hadn't been kidnapped. Looking back, her disinterest in him lately spoke volumes.

A sense of relief washed over him, mingled with a chilling acceptance that he had narrowly escaped a potentially disastrous situation. He didn't want a wife who could be easily swayed by another man, like his mother had been. Perhaps his half-brother had unintentionally done him a favor, preventing Bryson from being distracted from his responsibilities, just as his father had been consumed by his mother's infidelity.

His teeth clenched together tightly. He couldn't ignore the fact that Adam had orchestrated this humiliating event—

"Maybe you should take your own advice, Your Highness," his new bride said softly.

He turned his gaze towards her. "Excuse me?"

"You want me to hide my true feelings, but I can see it all over your face right now," she replied.

"And what does my face say?"

"That you're extremely displeased about something. I'm sure I don't need to guess what it is. Do you think you'll find her soon?" she asked.

He pushed aside his irritation. "I'd rather not discuss Avery." The thought of his half-brother was unwelcome. Besides, Bryson found himself much more interested in the woman he currently held in his arms.

For the sake of staying true to his character, of course.

Aria was right. He needed to be careful not to give away his true emotions. He composed his features and continued to gaze down at her. As he did, he noticed the subtle changes in her appearance.

He had initially thought her hair was plain, but now he saw it was actually a rich chestnut color, accentuated by dark gold highlights that couldn't possibly come from a bottle. Her lashes were incredibly long, gently brushing against her cheeks when she lowered them. Her lips, painted a deep peach shade, drew his attention to their soft, plump curve. Her eyes, wide and captivating, were framed with kohl that enhanced the depth of their amethyst color.

In her heels, she reached just below his chin, bringing him closer to the lips he had briefly tasted on the balcony. Lips that he yearned to taste again.

The spark threatened to ignite something more as his memories deepened.

He could tell that she lacked experience from their kiss, but there was an innocent eagerness in her that ignited a fire within him. The temptation to kiss her again, to experience that thrill once more, fueled his desire. But he ruthlessly suppressed it.

He wasn't weak like his father, driven by his own obsessions to the detriment of everyone around him. Bryson enjoyed sex, and the carefully chosen women he had been with over the years had satisfied his needs. Yet not once had he let his emotions overpower him.

And he had no intention of starting now.

Duty had dictated that he take a wife and produce heirs. That was his ultimate goal. And with Avery out of the picture...

He stared at his new Queen. His temporary Queen.

The way his people had embraced her had been...unexpected. They had readily accepted her. So why upset the balance?

Why indeed...?

Bryson warned himself against revealing to Aria that, contrary to her belief that this was only a temporary marriage, she was now bound to him for life. That conversation required careful strategizing.

At the same time, he realized that the idea of binding himself to a near stranger didn't disturb or displease him. He had never intended to marry for anything other than securing lasting stability for his people after his father's turbulent reign.

He wasn't weak enough to succumb to fleeting notions of marrying for love. That emotion was a fairy tale he had never wasted his time pursuing, especially once the reality of his position in life became clear.

His father had fallen victim to lust and obsession, to the detriment of his family and his kingdom. Bryson was well aware of the whispers that followed his father, the veiled scorn directed at the weakness that plagued the former King. He had no intention of falling into the same trap.

"I have no urgency to find my former fiancée," he said.

She gasped. "And why not?"

"Because if she left of her own accord, then she holds no significance anymore."

Her breath caught. "How can you say that? She was promised to you. You still need a bride! Your people need a queen."

Bryson continued to gaze down at her as they danced across the floor. Absently, he noted how gracefully she moved, how she held herself with poise. She wasn't as unrefined as he had initially thought. In fact, with a little guidance, she could become the diamond he sought. The diamond his people deserved.

The more he pondered on it, the deeper the idea settled within him.

"Your Highness?" Her voice trembled, as if she knew the monumental decision he had made.

Her eyes widened, her lower lip trembling in that enticing quiver that made him want to devour her once again.

"I don't need to find her, my dear. I have already found my bride. I have found my Queen. This wedding, this marriage, will be my first and last. There has never been a divorce in my family's history. And I'm not sure if our constitution even allows for it. So, you see, you and I are bound together for life, Aria. Accept it."

CHAPTER FOUR

If Aria had been informed just an hour ago that her whole world was about to be thrown further off balance, she would have dismissed it as unbelievable. But now, she found herself fully immersed in this wild, turbulent roller coaster of a situation.

Looking up at Bryson, there was no mistaking what he had said. It wasn't an accidental revelation. They were right in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by hundreds of guests. Aria had no escape and couldn't protest without causing a scene.

Bryson James Khamesia was known for his diplomatic skills and mental agility. He had excelled in polo matches since he was seventeen and had gained a reputation as a master strategist when he entered public office.

It was clear that he had applied those abilities to this situation. Panic and anger surged within Aria, giving her voice the strength to speak up.

"You lied to me," she whispered, her tone husky with shock.

His eyes grew cold, but the smile remained on his face. "I said, not here," he emphasized with clear displeasure.

But Aria was too overwhelmed to heed his warning. "You planned this, didn't you?"

"If you mean did I plan to speak to you afterwards so we can discuss this like rational human beings, then yes, that was my intention."

His careless dismissal chilled her to the core. She took a step back, but his arm around her waist pulled her closer, his fingers holding hers tightly. "You will not cause a scene."

Her King demanded obedience, but in that moment, Aria couldn't bring herself to comply like everyone else under his command.

"You keep telling me how to behave, to smile, to breathe. I'm not an object, Your Highness. I'm a human being. I chose to obey you because I thought I was doing the right thing. But you misled me. I will not stand for that."

His jaw twitched, and his gaze pinned her down. "What is it you're intending to do?" he asked with a deadly smile.

"I won't cause a scene, if that's what you're worried about."

A corner of his mouth lifted in a hint of a smile that promised danger. "My meek little bride seems to have a spine after all," he mocked.

Aria's anger bubbled up even more. "I get that way when I'm misled."

"Be careful. Don't forget whom you're addressing," he warned.

A chill ran through her body. "Is that a threat, Your Highness?"

"I am reminding you that we have an audience, and our every move is being watched. If you're going to be disagreeable, I suggest you wait until we are behind closed doors."

"Disagreeable? You think I'm being—"

Before she could continue venting her anger, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

Just like on the balcony, this was meant to silence her. Aria knew that. And yet, it worked like magic. A shiver ran down her spine, so powerful that she felt like she would be lifted off her feet.

And that was just from a whisper of his lips against hers. She cursed her body's reaction. She continued cursing it as the song ended and they were led off the dance floor with suave attentiveness.

Bryson didn't let go of her. His long fingers intertwined with hers as they moved from group to group, engaging in brief conversations with their guests.

For two hours, Aria was subjected to his electrifying touch and piercing gaze that held her fraying nerves tightly.

The evening reached its climax with spectacular fireworks on the palace's great lawn. Across the capital city, households joined in, lighting up the sky with bursts of colors.

Aria barely noticed them. All she wanted was to retreat as soon as possible and ensure that her fate wasn't as grim as she suspected.

Relief washed over her when her attendants appeared at nine p.m. to whisk her away. But moments later, she realized that Bryson wasn't following as expected.

She stopped, realizing that they needed to discuss what he had said now. She couldn't bear to wait another second. "Wait. I need to—"

He intercepted her as she headed back towards him and one of his ministers. "Go on without me. We will be reunited soon enough, little one," he said smoothly, taking her hand and brushing his lips against her knuckles.

Dear heaven, he was smooth.

And calculating.

Aria struggled to catch her breath as the women firmly led her away.

She was so consumed by the conversation she intended to have with him that she didn't notice where they were going until she realized they weren't heading back to the Queen's private quarters. "What... Where are you taking me?" she blurted out, though she had a fair idea.

Hamimah, walking a few steps ahead, looked over her shoulder and smiled. This time, her smile was more tactful, her whole demeanor remarkably composed compared to this morning.

Of course, Aria mused, she was now the Queen. Where there had been speculation and awkwardness before, there were now smiles and an abundance of courtesy and respect.

As a tiny surge of resentment rose within her for their sudden change in attitude, she wanted to tell them that there was no need for it. She was still one of them. She certainly didn't plan on being Queen for very long, not if she had any say in it.

The thought that her wish might not come true sent a fresh wave of warmth through her. Bryson hadn't misspoken.Aria was not well-versed in the intricacies of Constitution James' law, but she possessed enough knowledge about the history of the royal James family to understand that divorce had been absent for generations.

To this day, the only one who had abdicated the throne was Bryson's father, an event that had sent shockwaves throughout the kingdom.

"Your Highness?"

Aria spun around, half-expecting Bryson to be standing behind her. When he wasn't, she turned back to face HJamesimah, her brow furrowed.

"Your Highness, which gown do you prefer?" the attendant pressed.

She suddenly realized that she was the one being addressed, and her heart skipped a beat. "Please, don't call me that."

HJamesimah and the young attendants exchanged worried glances. "Apologies, but that is your official title. Addressing you otherwise would be disrespectful, Your Highness."

"I understand," Aria replied. Her previous resentment faded away, replaced by the stark realization that, whether she liked it or not, they now saw her in a different light. She may not have felt any different internally, but to them, she was now a rarefied creature, no longer one of their own. Aria couldn't decide if she should feel sad or give in to more hysterics. Instead, she settled for a solemn nod. "Alright." She knew how strictly the palace rules were followed. The last thing she wanted was to cause trouble for the staff. Soon enough, she would be one of them again.

"I've prepared some tea for Your Highness. Jasmine tea, to calm the nerves before the wedding night," HJamesimah offered with a kind smile.

Aria stopped herself from blurting out that it was a waste of time. She had no intention of spending the night in Bryson's private quarters, tonight or any other night.

"Can you help me with my gown, please?"

"Of course, Your Highness," HJamesimah chimed.

Gentle hands began to undo her clothing. Aria wasn't sure why she paid closer attention this time. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she would never be close to such exquisite creations again that made her truly look at her gown for the first time. She noticed the precious stones sewn into the swirling skirts as they were removed, the delicate sleeves and masterful design.

An exquisite diamond and sapphire necklace gleamed against her skin, the gems in her ears and on her wrist adding to the enchantment of the wedding gown that didn't belong to her and never would.

But for one fleeting moment, she allowed herself to believe that this was real.

When she finally met her own gaze in the mirror, she dared to dream that when this moment was far behind her, she would one day experience a wedding day of her own.

Smaller and less grand, of course, but just as magical.

But first, she had to reach Bryson. She had to free herself from the impossible circumstances closing in on her. She raised her arms as the gown was lifted over her head and taken away.

Then HJamesimah stood before her, gesturing towards an array of stunning evening gowns hanging on a rack.

Aria stared at the dresses in surprise. "Are these new?" They hadn't been there earlier, and she hadn't seen them with the bridal trousseau.

HJamesimah nodded. "His Highness ordered these specifically for you."

"Excuse me?" she blurted out.

A smile graced HJamesimah's lips. "The sudden change in plans left you with no choice but to wear the only available wedding gown. However, your new husband did not wish to see you in another woman's clothes on your wedding night. He had the royal couturier provide these gowns for you." There was a wistful tone in HJamesimah's voice, hinting that beneath her sometimes brusque exterior, she was a romantic at heart.

Aria was stunned that Bryson had arranged all of this. Should she really be surprised? If the bombshell he had dropped on the dance floor was true, then within minutes of entering this room, he had made a life-altering decision for her without even acknowledging her presence.

The sheer calculation behind it all staggered her.

"Which one will it be, Your Highness?" HJamesimah prompted.

Still dazed, Aria pointed to the emerald sequined gown, made of a fabric she was almost too afraid to touch. "That one," she murmured.

"A wonderful choice, Your Highness," HJamesimah agreed.

That familiar bubble of hysteria threatened to rise again. Aria swallowed it down, determined to remain calm and assertive. She had been too bewildered and confused earlier, allowing herself to go along with the idea of being a stand-in, a temporary bride. This time, she intended to make her voice heard.

She would scream if she had to. With a resolute nod to herself, Aria sat down and clasped her hands in her lap.

"May I pour you a cup, Your Highness?"

She stopped herself from grinding her teeth at the title. It didn't belong to her, and she would never get used to it.

"No, thank you," she replied. "You may leave now. I will pour it myself when I am ready."

"But... Your Highness, that is not protocol."

Aria suppressed her irritation. "I am perfectly capable of pouring my own tea, HJamesimah."

The older woman gave a curt bow and stepped back. "As you wish, Your Highness. Is there anything else?"

Aria shook her head. But as the women began to retreat, she turned around. "Do you know when His Highness will be here?" She heard the nervousness in her own voice, but HJamesimah's gaze softened."You can expect him within the hour, Your Highness," the servant informed her.

Aria, now known as Jamesone, forced a smile and curtsied once again. The prospect of waiting for another hour was unbearable. She knew she would lose her mind by then. As soon as the door closed behind the servant, she jumped to her feet.

There had to be a way out of this, she thought desperately. She paced back and forth until her feet began to ache, and then she kicked off her shoes in frustration. The sound of them hitting the wall brought her a small sense of satisfaction, quickly followed by guilt for mistreating such expensive accessories.

The guilt only fueled her agitation. As she turned from her pacing, another burst of fireworks illuminated the sky. Aria looked up, suddenly aware of the significance of the celebration happening around her. She touched her throbbing head and caught a glimmer of her wedding ring. It was a unique piece unlike any she had ever seen.

From her extensive knowledge of the James KhJamesia kingdom's history, she knew exactly where the ring had come from. It had belonged to Bryson's grandmother, who had worn it every day of her seventy-year marriage. The weight of the heirloom's historical significance threatened to overwhelm her. Lost in her thoughts, she was jolted back to reality by a loud knock on the outer door.

Fear clenched her throat as she rushed to put her shoes back on. With a deep breath, she walked through the living room to open the doors. Bryson stood before her, transformed from the military uniform he had worn earlier into a captivating tunic that showcased his broad shoulders and toned physique. His dark curly hair gleamed under the chandelier lights. He had clearly taken a shower since she last saw him.

Aria couldn't tear her eyes away from him, captivated by his presence. It took an embarrassingly long moment for her to realize she was staring.

When she met his gaze, she saw a touch of coolness, but as his eyes traveled from her head to her feet, a different look replaced it. A look that sent tingles through her belly and made her pulse quicken.

"Are you going to invite me in, or do you plan to tackle me where I stand?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

Aria cursed the blush that crept up her cheeks and quickly stepped back to let him in. He entered and closed the door behind him.

"The gown suits you," he said, a note of satisfaction in his voice.

The knowledge that he had chosen it specifically for her shouldn't have pleased her, but it did. Aria pushed away thoughts of clothes and focused on her freedom.

"Tell me that what you said isn't true," she blurted out, her voice filled with heat.

He didn't respond, instead looking around the room. "Perhaps we should sit down," he suggested.

Aria shook her head. "No. You said this was temporary. I want to know why you deceived me," she demanded, her voice more plaintive than she intended.

"Compose yourself," he commanded firmly.

"I'll compose myself when you assure me that this marriage will be annulled as soon as possible," she shot back.

He didn't react to her raised voice or the accusation she threw at him. Instead, he walked towards the living room, leaving her no choice but to follow.

She watched as he gracefully lowered himself into an expensive silk armchair, crossing one leg over the other.

"I've had you investigated," he stated boldly. "You don't have any family, correct?"

Her heart ached at the pain his words caused, along with the realization that he was changing tactics once again.

With clenched fists, she stared at him. "You had me investigated?" she repeated.

He nodded calmly, as if her disbelief meant nothing to him. Maybe it didn't. The fact that he had delved into her background while they exchanged vows made her stomach churn. Knowing that he had evidence of her insignificance, both literally and figuratively, only intensified her anguish.

But she lifted her chin defiantly. "Then you'll have your confirmation that I am not fit for this...this..."

"Being my Queen?" he finished softly, barely audible.

Why was he so calm? Why wasn't he doing everything in his power to get rid of her at the first opportunity?

"Yes," she hissed, taking a step closer to him despite her instincts telling her to keep her distance.

"On the contrary, I believe it is to my advantage," he said with a hint of satisfaction.

Her heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean by that?"

His gaze lingered on her, as if he had all the time in the world. "You've had a challenging day, little one. Sit down before you collapse."

Aria fought the urge to stomp her feet. "I'm not as weak as you think. I can have a conversation without needing to sit down."

"But perhaps it would be more civilized that way?" he mocked, gesturing towards the seat next to him.

The insinuation that she was being uncivilized cut deep. Aria pushed the hurt aside and took a deep breath.She didn't particularly care about his opinion of her. All she wanted was to secure her freedom through this evening's conversation.

With that in mind, she made her way to the sofa, aware of his presence following her every step. She perched on the corner of the sofa, folding her hands in her lap and meeting his gaze head-on. There was a fleeting expression in his eyes, too quick for her to decipher.

"Now that I'm sitting, Your Highness, please explain yourself," she said, her voice steady.

He gave a slight smile, but it vanished almost instantly. "The constitution isn't as outdated as I led you to believe. Divorce is not forbidden, but if I were to divorce, I would be the first in my family's history."

Relief washed over her, accompanied by an unsettling feeling she couldn't quite place. "We can get a divorce?" she repeated slowly, the words catching in her throat.

He remained silent for a moment before nodding brusquely. "Yes," he replied, his tone bitter. "There is a clause that allows either party to initiate a divorce, but there are specific circumstances under which it will be considered."

"What circumstances?" she asked, her eyes widening when he didn't elaborate.

"Infidelity," he responded.

Her heart raced as he left those words hanging in the air. "That's it?"

"Yes," he confirmed.

"But...this isn't a real marriage...and I don't have any intention of being unfaithful..." She shook her head, trying to gather her thoughts. "This is all absurd. What about an annulment?" she added, desperation creeping into her voice.

He shook his head. "My family has never pursued an annulment. No James KhJamesia has ever failed to consummate his marriage."

For some reason, his statement sent a surge of heat through her. "But you would be the first?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Bryson uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Am I?" he drawled softly, his narrowed eyes fixed on her.

Aria's fingers trembled, but she tightened her grip. "Of course you are. It's our only option."

"It's not," he said firmly.

The weight of those three words shook her to her core. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as he continued to gaze at her intently. "What do you mean?" she managed to ask, her voice barely audible.

"I mean this marriage can be reJamesed," he declared.

"ReJamesed?" she repeated, the word foreign on her tongue. None of this made any sense.

"Yes," he affirmed. "I will be your husband, and you will be my wife. You will bear my children, and you will be my Queen."

He had said those words before, but they still left Aria speechless.

"And...why would I want that?" she finally asked.

"Because in return, you would have a position that few women ever achieve in their lifetime. You would be respected by an entire kingdom and adored by millions."

Something twisted inside her. "I'm not sure when I gave you the impression that I wanted any of that. I don't."

He looked at her disbelievingly, leaning even closer. "You prefer to remain a chambermaid for the rest of your life?"

His question struck a nerve. She didn't need a reminder that she was a nobody, with no family or friends to rely on. All she had was a deep yearning to leave a lasting mark, something more meaningful than her sad and transient childhood.

Despite the turmoil in her emotions, she lifted her chin and glared at him. "No. I have more ambition than that. But it doesn't involve basking in the adoration of your subjects."

He nodded, as if he hadn't just scoffed at her moments ago. "Very well, tell me what it is."

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

He shrugged, a gesture so effortlessly arrogant and elegant that it momentarily stunned her. "Perhaps I can help."

Aria shook her head. Nothing came for free. She knew that all too well. But his eyes held her captive, their golden depths delving into the heart of her desires.

Before she could stop herself, she responded, her voice soft. "I've always wanted to work with children. I've been saving up to start a course next year."

"A tutor will be hired for you," he immediately declared.

Her breath caught, but the reminder that nothing came without a cost lingered. "And what do you want in return? Why don't you just tell me?"

His eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief. "I've already told you."

She shook her head, unable to comprehend what was happening. "This can't possibly be what you want. You...you don't even know me," she said, her voice filled with confusion.

He shrugged again. "Perhaps a blank slate is exactly what I need." His tone turned cold, sending a shiver down her spine.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It might not seem that way to you, little one."

The surge that ran through her this time was a mixture of heat and electricity. "Please stop calling me that."

He stiffened. "Does it offend you?"

She bit her lip, remaining silent because, despite the offense, there was something decadent stirring within her every time he used that low, deep endearment. It was something she didn't want to understand, let alone explain.

This man had managed to throw her completely off balance. But it was time for her to regain her composure.

Before she could speak, he rose to his full height, his presence commanding the room. He took long strides and settled into the seat beside her.

His masculinity hit her like a wave, leaving her momentarily breathless. Aria tried to swallow, realizing even that simple action couldn't be achieved with him so close.

"Today, my people confirmed what I already knew—that they need the stability of a married and stable king. The economic potential of this marriage is immense. It would be unfortunate and unacceptable to disrupt that," he explained.Accepted into their hearts, Aria couldn't believe it. She, a nobody from nowhere, had somehow managed to earn their affection. The thought of divorcing Bryson, even though she had considered it, now seemed unfathomable. The way everyone had embraced their union made her question her decision entirely. So, she found herself standing there, listening to his proposal, buying herself time to formulate an escape plan.

"What life are you offering me?" Aria finally mustered the courage to ask. She wasn't considering accepting his preposterous proposition. She just needed to stall and figure out how to free herself from this predicament.

"Any life you desire," he replied confidently.

"And what about Avery?" Aria inquired, hoping to divert the conversation.

Bryson's jaw clenched for a moment, a hint of tension flashing in his eyes. "You said she left willingly. Was that not the case?"

Aria bit her lip, replaying the events in her mind. Despite her desire to deny it, the truth was clear. "No, she wasn't coerced. But don't you want to find her?"

"I know exactly who took her and why. It was meant to cause chaos and humiliation, but I successfully prevented that," Bryson explained.

Confusion furrowed Aria's brow. "But won't you want her back?"

A coldness settled over Bryson's face. "I spoke to her father before the ceremony. Our arrangement is null and void."

"Just like that?" Aria questioned, disbelief evident in her voice.

He nodded firmly. "Yes. Besides, I've already made my choice. Right now, I want to discuss us."

Aria's heart skipped a beat. Us. When did they become an us?

"My people have endured enough," Bryson continued with conviction. "I will not jeopardize the stability of this kingdom with another emotional spectacle like my father's recent escapades. I need someone level-headed and hardworking by my side."

"But...you don't even know me," Aria repeated, still trying to comprehend the situation.

"I've reviewed your file. Spoken to those who matter. Your work within the palace has been exemplary," Bryson revealed.

Aria stared at him, stunned. "And that's all it takes?"

"No, it's not everything. But it's a good starting point," he replied.

She shook her head, her heart racing uncontrollably. "This can't be happening," she whispered.

"You must come to terms with it," Bryson said, his finality sending a chill down her spine.

"I don't want to," Aria protested heatedly. "You said this was only temporary."

Without warning, Bryson reached out and gently brushed his knuckles against her cheek. The unexpected touch froze her in place, sending an electric jolt through her body.

Several minutes passed in silence as Aria dared to steal a glance at him. His narrowed eyes and calculating expression made it clear that he had no intention of setting her free.

"My people need us to remain married, Aria," he finally stated.

Her heart constricted painfully. "I...I don't want to make them unhappy, but—"

"But what? You would rather go back to a life of servitude?" Bryson interrupted.

"I want to have a say in who and when I marry," Aria asserted, her voice growing stronger.

His hand dropped from her face, offense flickering in his eyes. "And I am completely unsuitable?"

"I didn't say that," she mumbled, realizing that he actually fit many of her criteria for a husband.

"What would suit you, then?" Bryson asked, though Aria suspected he was merely humoring her.

Her chin lifted defiantly. "For you to honor our initial agreement, that this was just temporary."

Again, a silence filled the space between them, each passing minute sending shivers down Aria's spine. Then, unexpectedly, he nodded. "Very well. Five years," he murmured deeply and abruptly. "That's all I ask. Five years."

"I... What?" Aria stammered, caught off guard by his unexpected offer.

"If a permanent marriage to me is too much for you, then let's revisit our situation in five years. In the meantime, you stay by my side. Bear my heirs. And at the end of it, if you still desire your freedom, I will grant it to you. In return, you will have the education you desire, any position you seek, the title of Queen, and unimaginable wealth."

"Can you please stop talking about your wealth? I don't want your money," Aria pleaded.

Bryson gently tucked his forefinger under her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. "But what about my people? Do you despise them so much that you wish to see them unhappy?"

"That's not fair," she protested.

A grim smile played on Bryson's lips. "Stop dreaming, little one. Life isn't fair. Otherwise, you wouldn't have ended up in an orphanage."

His words held no malice, only brutal honesty. Yet, the pain cut deep. Although her past remained a mystery, the quality of the clothes she wore when she was found wandering near a ravine at the tender age of five suggested that she might have been cared for once. But that was irrelevant now. Whether she had been well-off or not, she had been abandoned, left to fend for herself. The matron at the orphanage had made that clear after countless inquiries.

Aria had stopped asking about her past when she was repeatedly told to focus on the present and future, to be grateful for the roof over her head and the food in her belly. But the questions still lingered, fueling her burning desire to work with children, especially those who had been orphaned.

If she could reunite just one child with their rightful past in the future, that would be enough for her. The pain that still resided in her heart all these years later was not something she would wish upon any child.

The idea that Bryson James Khamesia could expedite her dreams slowly started to weave its way through the waves of pain. The other things he had mentioned—being a queen, bearing his children—filled her with anxiety. They seemed impossibly distant, causing her to shake her head. "You...want me to have your children?"

Bryson's lips twisted into a wry smile. "That is generally the idea when a man takes a wife. But especially in my case, as my rule is hereditary."Suppressing her urge to burst into laughter, Aria questioned her own capability. Could she really bear children? Bryson had thoroughly examined every aspect of her life, leaving no stone unturned. It was expected, of course, given his position as the head of the royal family. Despite their unconventional circumstances, Bryson seemed determined to make their union work.

But did she feel the same?

"I need your answer," he pressed, his finger still lingering beneath her chin, leaving no room for escape.

Children. The thought of marriage and starting a family had always been a distant dream for Aria, something she hoped for in the future. The reality of it happening now, right before her eyes, was almost overwhelming.

As if sensing her vulnerability, Bryson leaned closer until their lips were inches apart. "Do you agree?" he breathed.

Marriage. Children. These were the fantasies of her teenage self, as she pored over the royal books in the library. Those daydreams had followed her into her sleep, intertwining with the anxiety she felt now.

Bryson hadn't uttered words of love, nor did she expect him to. They were, after all, strangers forced together by circumstance. Yet, as she gazed into his determined eyes and traced the lines of his face, she couldn't dismiss the image of her younger self, captivated by his presence.

He had led a life of integrity, loyalty, and unwavering devotion to his people and his crown. What better qualities could she hope for in a partner?

The realization that she was willingly stepping into this life hit her hard.

She tried to move, to create some distance between them.

But he stopped her retreat by placing his hand on her nape, just as he had done on the balcony earlier. His intense gaze locked with hers. "You want this," he murmured. "Think about everything you stand to gain, the children you can help. Say yes, Aria." His words held a hypnotic power.

Had she truly desired to resign herself to a life of mediocrity just an hour ago? Did she really want to return to her lonely apartment, scrimping and saving for years to come?

She knew, without a doubt, that she would regret it if she let this opportunity slip through her fingers.

His lips hovered temptingly close, igniting a deep longing within her. In that moment, she realized she wanted more than just today or tomorrow with him. She craved a future, as many days as fate would grant them.

With Bryson James Khamesia, her children would never be ordinary like her. They would be princes and princesses, future monarchs with a rich heritage at their fingertips. This was her chance to pave a true path for her children and perhaps even find an identity for herself.

Her hands twisted nervously in her lap, and he grasped them with his free hand. He was taking control of her life, of her very being, and she welcomed it. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, longing for a kiss, before meeting his eyes again.

And then, she uttered the word that etched itself into her heart. "Yes."

For a moment, he didn't move. Then, without granting her the kiss she desired, he stood up, pulling her up with him.

"You've made the right choice," he stated firmly.

"Have I, Your Highness?" she asked, dazed.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You really need to stop calling me that."

A shaky breath escaped her. Then, her breath caught as he cupped her face in his warm hands. "After all," he murmured, "you can hardly call me Your Highness when I am deep inside you."

Her face flushed with heat, and she tried to form a response.

"Bryson," he urged. "That's my name. Use it." His thumb caressed her jaw, leaving her speechless.

Numbly, she shook her head.

"Don't worry. I'll have you screaming my name by the end of the night," he vowed huskily.

He released her and took hold of her wrist, pulling her towards the door.

"Where are you taking me?" she blurted out.

"It's our wedding night, little one," he replied, not breaking stride. "Royal tradition dictates that we consummate our marriage tonight. And if we only have five years, then you'll need to bear my children sooner rather than later, don't you think?"

His gaze held a firm determination, laced with restrained desire. Tonight was their wedding night, and Bryson intended to fulfill his duty in the bedroom.

Immediately.

With her heart pounding, she stumbled after him down the endless corridor, into his private bedchamber, and towards the grand four-poster bed that would witness their union.

The place where she would surrender her innocence to the King of Khamesia before the night was over.

CHAPTER FIVE

Aria couldn't believe her eyes as she entered the lavish private suite. She had been in awe of this room before, but now, her attention was solely focused on the electrifying touch of the King's hand in hers. Their palms were fused together, the heat from his touch branding her skin, just like the royal crest emblazoned on the flags lining the palace driveway.

Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she feared she might hyperventilate. How could she remain calm in the face of these earth-shattering events unfolding in her life? This morning, she had expected an ordinary day, save for the momentous royal wedding. But now, here she stood, on the verge of giving herself to the King.

Should she tell him? Would he know? She was filled with a whirlwind of questions, adding to the turmoil inside her.

As if sensing her unease, Bryson suddenly stopped. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I... This is moving too fast," she admitted honestly.

She expected him to frown thunderously, but instead, he studied her for a moment and then nodded. Without letting go of her hand, he gently brushed his fingers down her cheek. "Do not fear, my dear. I will make this a memorable experience for you. We can take it as slow as you wish."

Relief washed over her apprehension. But in the next instant, her anxiety returned as he effortlessly swept her off her feet.

"What are you doing?" she squeaked.

"I believe it's tradition," he replied.

He stood motionless, gazing down at her, waiting for her response. It was then that Aria realized they were outside the doors to his inner bedchamber. Beyond those doors awaited a grand emperor-sized bed covered in a gold and blue coverlet that she herself had laid on only days ago. The journey from then to now felt like a hazy dream.

After a quick swallow, she redirected her gaze to him. "If you believe in that sort of thing, I suppose," she murmured.

One eyebrow slowly arched. "You don't believe, Aria?"

His deep baritone voice curling around her name sent tiny sparks shooting through her belly. She blushed, and he watched the color rise on her cheeks, a sly smile playing on his lips, drawing her eyes to his sensuous mouth.

"I believe I have my answer," he said.

With that, he stepped across the threshold and calmly carried her over to the bed.

Gently, he set her down on her feet, his hands trailing up her arms to rest on her shoulders. Then, his gaze traveled from head to toe, lingering on her breasts and hips in an unabashedly masculine appraisal that sent shivers of awareness across her skin. Her nipples tingled, her breasts growing more sensitive as he lifted his eyes, now molten gold, to meet hers.

"Beautiful," he pronounced in a deep voice.

No one had ever called her that before, not even close. She shook her head. "It's not me. It's the dress and... the make-up."

"It's also the woman wearing those things," he declared haughtily.

Remembering that he had chosen the gown she was wearing, she looked down at herself. "Thank you for this. You didn't have to, but—"

He cut her off with a shake of his head. "You should not have been given a choice in your wedding gown. The situation needed to be rectified for what comes next. I couldn't bear the thought of asking you to wear another woman's clothes on your wedding night."

A knot she hadn't even been aware of loosened inside her. His consideration where it wasn't necessary touched a tender place within her, causing a tingling behind her eyes. "Thank you," she said once again.

"You're welcome, but I'm afraid it's time for the dress to come off."

With those words, the atmosphere shifted once more. The heat in his eyes became purposeful, igniting similar flames within her. His hands slowly glided up her shoulders to her neck, where they paused, lazily caressing her skin until a helpless moan escaped her throat.

"Do you enjoy that?" he demanded, his gaze penetrating, as if he were intent on deciphering her body language.

A surge of molten heat coursed through her. Her tongue darted out to moisten her dry lips as she contemplated her answer. Would he find her bold if she admitted that she liked his touch? Did she even need to answer? Surely he could see it for himself?

"This is part of the process of getting to know one another, Aria. There's no need to be shy. I want to learn your body, just as I want you to learn mine." His fingers caressed her again, slightly more insistent, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. "Do you enjoy this?" he asked again, his commanding voice sending delightful shivers through her.

"Yes," she moaned.

"Good," he rumbled, satisfied. Then, with both thumbs resting beneath her chin, he tilted her head up, exposing her face to the golden fire in his eyes. "I wish to taste your lips once more," he declared.

Before she could stop herself, Aria leaned toward him.A deeper satisfaction curled his lips before his face tightened with an enchanting expression that held her captive.

With a gruff sound under his breath, he inclined his head and pressed his mouth to hers. Aria had only experienced one other kiss before this, but she knew, even then, that this one was different.

For starters, it seared her to the core. It was a deeply carnal, intoxicating encounter that declared dominance over her, leaving her unable to think.

Every sense focused on the dark magic unfolding, a magic she never wanted to end. His tongue boldly probed between her lips, commanding her to open up. With a needy sigh, she parted her lips, experiencing an even greater depth of sensation as their tongues intertwined.

Bold. Fiery. Caught in a feverish grip she had never imagined possible with a mere kiss, she couldn't help but cling to him as the ground shifted beneath her feet. Craving more, she widened her lips, moaning low and deep as he explored her with audacious thoroughness. Wave after wave of sensation crashed over her, weakening her knees with each passing second.

At some point, her eyes fluttered shut as she surrendered to the power of touch and scent. She heard his heavy breathing matching hers, felt his hands slide from her throat down her back to firmly hold her closer. No man had ever touched her so boldly. No man had ever done even a fraction of what Bryson was doing to her. It was intoxicating beyond belief.

Another helpless moan escaped her as she gave in to temptation and allowed her hands to roam his body. The silk of his tunic warmed beneath her fingertips as she circled his waist and timidly explored his back. Firm muscles flexed beneath her touch, his body tensing and relaxing as she tentatively caressed him. Time ceased to exist, and all that mattered in her world were the mind-bending sensations carrying her to an unknown destination.

A sharp hiss escaped his lips. She blinked, realizing her nails were digging into his shoulders. At some point, his fingers had tangled in her hair, using the gentle grip to tilt her head back so he could gaze into her face.

"Do I have a little hellcat on my hands?" he mused lazily.

But there was nothing lazy about his intense gaze. It was determined, powerful, and focused on conquering.

And she wanted to be conquered. So much.

Her gaze dropped to his lips, eager and unashamed, desiring another taste of his exquisite kiss.

At her moan, his eyes glinted with an indiscernible edge that quickened her heartbeat. "You look at me with such unrestrained need," he said. "It is enough to lead a lesser man into dangerous waters."

"But not you," she observed huskily.

Because he transcended the weaknesses that plagued ordinary men. Even now, he stood tall and proud, exuding dominance, a statue-like testament to his extraordinary nature. And he was so confident in the bold masculinity that branded her belly through their clothes.

Maybe it was her imagination, and she had no basis for comparison, but the imprint of his girth was substantial enough to ignite a different kind of alarm within her.

Yet, alongside it, there was also a thrill, sinful and delicious, temptation at its worst. Between her thighs, liquid heat threatened to melt her into a puddle, while a terrible hunger gnawed at her, demanding fulfillment. She gasped as his hands slowly explored her waist, then drifted up her back once more.

Skillful fingers found her zipper and pulled it down with unwavering determination. The sound filled the room, a vivid manifestation of what was transpiring.

This time, the noise that escaped her was less of a moan and more of a whimper.

Before her nerves could consume her, he was wreaking havoc again, kissing the corner of her mouth before planting decadent little kisses along her cheek, her jaw, and down her neck to where it met her shoulder. Merciless teeth nipped at her skin, eliciting a shiver that drew a deep grunt of satisfaction from him.

"You are so responsive. I look forward to evoking even more reactions from this body."

The gentle breeze that whispered over her skin alerted her to the fact that her dress was undone. Still focused on kissing her neck, he slowly slid the silky fabric down her arms until her breasts were exposed to his gaze.

Alarm washed over Aria, dampening her desire. She hastily crossed her arms over her chest, shielding her breasts from his view as she took a step back.

Bryson froze. A thunderous frown marred his brow. "Is something wrong?"

She swallowed hard. "There is... something you should know."

A faint wave of displeasure washed over his features. "Yes?" His prompt was a tight rumble in his chest. Even as he waited for her answer, his gaze roamed over her, lingering on her shoulders, the breasts she was desperately hiding, down to where her dress rested low on her hips.

She would never have believed that a mere look from a man's eyes could evoke such overwhelming emotions within her. And though Bryson appeared completely composed, the intensity in his gaze rendered her speechless.

But she needed to speak. She had to tell him, even if the possibilities of his reaction terrified her. None of them filled her with elation.

Esteemed men like Bryson preferred women who knew how to please them. The women he had been with before were all experienced.Sophisticated. Aria had delved into the depths of history books, scouring the library for any information on how to please a husband. Unfortunately, her knowledge was limited to the pages of outdated romance novels she had read years ago. Even then, those stories seemed far-fetched and unrealistic.

Feeling dejected, Aria cast her gaze downward, fixating on Bryson's shoes. Their kisses had stirred something within him, but this was an entirely different level. She feared that her lack of experience would disappoint him after all the effort he had put in.

"Speak," Bryson commanded, his voice firm and unwavering.

Aria struggled to find the right words. "I don't... I'm not..."

"Aria." The way he said her name sent shivers down her spine. His face remained stoic, but she could sense a hunger flickering in his eyes. It gave her a glimmer of hope.

"Tell me what's troubling you," he urged.

"I'm not... experienced," she confessed, barely above a whisper.

Emotion washed over Bryson's face, his eyes narrowing in thought. "I need a clearer understanding of what you mean by 'inexperienced.'"

"I'm a virgin," she blurted out. "I've never been with a man before. And I don't want to disappoint you."

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity, his bronze eyes piercing through her. Aria couldn't help but feel exposed, her bare torso a constant reminder of her vulnerability.

"The only way you could disappoint me is if you hide the truth from me," he finally spoke.

A deep blush spread across her cheeks, making her feel even more self-conscious. Bryson seemed captivated by her embarrassment, his gaze tracing the rosy hue that painted her skin. When his eyes met hers, there was an intensity that made her heart race.

"I thought it was simple enough. I've never been intimate with a man," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Aria was taken aback by the possessiveness that flashed in Bryson's eyes. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared, but its impact lingered, igniting a fire within her as she found herself unable to look away. She watched as his nostrils flared, a sign of his frayed control, before he took a deep breath.

"You're twenty-five," he breathed. "And you've never been with a man?"

Though she wanted nothing more than to hide from his penetrating gaze, Aria forced herself to maintain eye contact. "No, I haven't."

He exhaled sharply, a slight clench in his jaw betraying his inner turmoil. Then, without hesitation, he cupped her elbows. "Then you will be mine. Only mine."

His possessive words left her breathless. Aria struggled to inhale as he pulled her arms away from her body, exposing her to his scrutiny. Ensnared by his spell, she let her arms fall to her sides, trembling before him as his gaze settled on her breasts.

A low growl escaped him. "You are truly exquisite."

Immovable, Aria stood there, unable to move even if she wanted to. With his eyes locked on hers and his commanding presence, he held her captive. She trembled as he swiftly removed the dress, leaving her in just her panties and heels. Despite her vulnerability, there was a sense of empowerment coursing through her. Perhaps he wasn't as unaffected as she initially believed.

She had little idea of what lay ahead in their lovemaking, but for now, something about her pleased him enough to keep him by her side. His eyes roamed over her skin, leisurely exploring every inch of her body.

Suddenly, he spun her around, his fingers circling her waist as he pulled her back against his hard, toned frame. A gasp escaped her lips as his head nestled into the curve of her neck, his lips tracing a path along her skin. His fingers tangled in her hair, removing the diamond pins that held her elaborate knot in place. One by one, they fell to the ground until her hair cascaded freely down her back.

"Incredible," he murmured once again.

A heat simmered between her thighs, intensifying with each touch of his fingers through her hair. He seemed to have all the time in the world, savoring every moment as he explored her body. Only when he was satisfied did his hand glide over her shoulder and descend to her chest.

Without warning, he cupped one breast, his touch both warm and bold. Aria's knees weakened, but he held her firmly. His lips grazed her neck, teasing her with gentle bites, while his other hand toyed with her nipple. The fire within her belly burned relentlessly, demanding more from him. His other hand joined in, tormenting both peaks with expert tugs.

In that moment, Aria felt as though she would combust. "Oh!"

"Does my little hellcat enjoy this?" he rasped against her ear.

Her head dropped forward, consumed by the flames of desire. "Yes," she whimpered helplessly.

He chuckled softly, never ceasing his caresses. As he continued to pleasure her, she could hear the rustle of clothes behind her. Overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through her, she dared not look at him, fearing it would push her over the edge.

Instead, she let her imagination run wild, conjuring an image of Bryson in her mind.But even in her wildest fantasies, she couldn't have imagined the intensity of what was about to unfold. The desire to experience every inch of him consumed her, lifting her head as his touch sent electric currents through her body. His fingers deftly slipped beneath the fabric of her panties, coaxing them down her hips until they lay pooled around her ankles. With a strength that both excited and intimidated her, he lifted her clear of them, and then he turned her around.

Her imagination had fallen short, unable to capture the magnificence before her.

His bronzed body glistened under the light, sculpted to perfection with not an ounce of fat to spare. It was as if he had been chiseled from marble by the gods themselves. The hard, hairless planes of his chest led to a tight six-pack, before descending into a trail of silky hair that framed an impressive manhood, proudly jutting from his body.

Aria's jaw dropped in awe. He was beyond impressive. Her body ignited with a hunger she had never known, her gaze fixated on his powerful thighs and then back to the place between his legs that held her captive.

"Do you like what you see, little one?" he asked, his voice dripping with arrogance.

As his question hung in the air, his manhood continued to swell, defying any logic or possibility. Panic started to creep into Aria's mind. There was no way he could fit inside her.

Sensing her doubts, he stepped forward. "You needn't worry. I'll take care of you, habibti."

Before she could fully process his words, powerful arms swept her off her feet and gently laid her down on the bed. He positioned himself above her, his hard chest brushing against her sensitive nipples, causing a wild tremor to course through her body.

One corner of his mouth lifted at her reaction.

The wildness intensified as he pressed his lips against hers, his hands exploring every inch of her body with possessive fervor. Aria lost track of time as he kissed his way down her body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

His lips trailed from her collarbone to the valley between her breasts, showering her skin with torrid, open-mouthed kisses. Hot murmurs escaped his lips, their meaning lost on her as he captured one tight peak in his mouth.

A tiny scream escaped her throat as an indescribable sensation rippled through her body. He rolled his tongue over her nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth before releasing it, only to start the exquisite torment all over again. The twin peak received the same attention, leaving her delirious and whimpering for more as he trailed kisses over the skin above her belly button.

"Be calm," he ordered thickly. "You have my promise we will do this again. For now, I must taste what is mine."

Aria gasped, attempting to close her legs in a futile attempt to resist. Surely he couldn't mean...

"Yes," he insisted gruffly.

Powerful hands held her thighs captive as he slowly, insistently laid her bare.

Their gazes locked for a moment, and then his eyes dropped to the most intimate part of her. A fierce blush engulfed her, threatening to consume her whole as a deep rumble emanated from his throat.

"Truly exquisite," he murmured.

Aria's head spun at the power of those two words as his head lowered, his expert tongue slicking over her needy flesh. She couldn't hold back the moan that tore from her lips, her body shuddering with pleasure. Bryson explored her with a single-minded focus, as if he owned every inch of her.

And in that moment, he did.

Embarrassment faded away as she surrendered to the magic of his tongue. He teased, nibbled, and explored, until he concentrated on that bundle of nerves at the top of her sex.

Just when she thought the pleasure couldn't intensify any further, he suckled her with a steady pressure that detonated a volcano deep within her. She cried out, her entire body tightening before shattering into a million fragments of pure ecstasy. Time lost all meaning as convulsions tore through her, leaving her engulfed in sensation.

Gradually, Aria became aware of her fingers tangled in Bryson's hair, holding on tight as the world slowly righted itself. She noticed the unevenness of his breathing as he trailed kisses against her skin.

It struck her that the tightly controlled man who had carried her into the bedroom had given way to something else entirely. He was just as consumed by the feverish desire as she was.

And it had all started when she mentioned her virginity. Or perhaps she was reading too much into it?

Before she could dwell on the thought, he kissed his way back up her body. When their eyes met, he lowered himself onto his elbows and stared deeply into her eyes before fusing his mouth to hers. The taste of herself on his lips should have embarrassed her, but all it produced was a triumphant decadence.

She had done something right. He wasn't pulling away. There was no disappointment in his eyes.

If anything, there was an edge to his kiss, an aggression that matched the need rekindling inside her.Their gazes locked as they gasped for breath, the intensity in his fevered eyes captivating her. "Touch me," he commanded, his voice gruff with desire.

Her hands trembled with a mix of release and nerves, but the need to feel his warmth overwhelmed her. She traced her fingers down his neck, over his Adam's apple. His low groan revealed his pleasure. Emboldened, she continued to caress him, exploring the hard muscles of his chest before trailing her hands down to his hips.

Bryson's breathing grew harsh and uneven. With unsteady hands, he parted her thighs and settled between them. His throbbing length found its place against her wet and needy core.

As embarrassment tinged her cheeks once again, he smiled down at her. "Don't be embarrassed by your eagerness for me," he murmured. "Spread your legs wider," he commanded.

She complied, her heart racing like a runaway horse. The broad head of his manhood brushed against her tender flesh, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

"Be calm," he instructed, his voice commanding.

She fought to steady her breathing, her fingers digging into his arms.

Bryson inhaled sharply before slowly pushing inside her.

The sharp pain caught her off guard, and she cried out.

He kissed her fiercely, silencing her. "Hush," he soothed gruffly. He withdrew and then pushed back in.

Tears welled in her eyes as pain rippled through her once more.

Above her, Bryson's jaw clenched tight, his ragged breaths matching the ferocity in his eyes. "The pain will ease," he asserted, his words carrying power.

For some inexplicable reason, she believed him and nodded, her movements jerky.

As if triggered by her response, he groaned and thrust into her deeply. Another cry escaped her as tears streamed down her temples. And just as suddenly as the pain had come, it vanished.

"Tell me how you feel," he rasped.

"I... I'm fine," she replied softly, realizing that she truly was.

He continued to watch her with intense eyes, scrutinizing every expression. After a moment, he pulled back and thrust back in.

Aria gasped, new sensations coursing through her. With slow and deliberate movements, Bryson possessed her, his eyes never leaving hers.

Her moans of pleasure melded into a symphony of need as Bryson lowered himself over her. His breath washed over her face as he deepened his thrusts, drawing out more exquisite pleasure from her body.

"Wrap your legs around me," he instructed.

As soon as she obeyed, a gasp escaped her lips as his next thrust elicited a sharper, more intense sensation. With a grunt of satisfaction, he kissed her passionately, mirroring the rhythm of their bodies.

She couldn't believe the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her. The thought barely registered before another surge of ecstasy sent her spiraling higher.

"Oh... Bryson..."

His name on her lips seemed to ignite something within him, and his thrusts grew wilder, relentlessly propelling her toward a pinnacle that surpassed anything she had ever experienced.

Her world tilted once again.

"Aria, open your eyes," he demanded.

Struggling, she pried her eyes open to meet his burning golden gaze. The connection between them sent her hurtling over the edge.

With a strangled scream, she tumbled from the highest peak of sensation, drowning in a sea of bliss that brought tears to her eyes.

* * *

Bryson James Khamesia couldn't believe the woman beneath him was the same person he had met only this morning. The woman he had dismissed so carelessly. He had gone into this with his eyes wide open, or so he thought. Pleasure had been the last thing on his mind. But here he was, unable to deny the overwhelming pleasure that surged through his body. He had been with many women in his life, but none had ever responded like his new wife.

His virgin Queen.

He wondered if her innocence added to the thrill of the conquest. Most likely, he concluded. He had never bedded a virgin before, nor had he desired to be the first to claim a woman. The thought of teaching someone to please him had always deterred him rather than enticed him.

But as he thrust into his new wife, Bryson considered all the ways he could shape her to his liking. How he could teach her to find pleasure in her own body, even as he filled her womb. These thoughts were primitive and archaic, and he should have been ashamed. Instead, they intensified his pleasure as he listened to the sounds of her ecstasy. She was his in every way. He gazed down at her as her lips parted in pleasure, her eyes glazed over, as he reached his own climax.

As the euphoria faded, the full weight of his thoughts settled in.

Shock coursed through him as he realized how quickly temptation had led him astray from his purpose.

How easily, like his father, he had been willing to sacrifice his priorities for desire.

How, for a few heartbeats, he had lost sight of how his family had been torn apart by affairs of the flesh.

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